In the Hands of a Blind Girl
by anjehlessa
Summary: Voldemort, knowing that his death is near, stores his first fourteen years of his soul in a nicnac angel. But what happens when the angel ends up in the wrong hands? Tom Riddle's life will change forever. I wrote this when I was 14 and only have it up for sentimental reasons. Read at your own risk...
1. Chapter 1

Note: Dreams are seriously my best friends (sometimes.) This story came to me in my dreams. It's like there are little writing messengers in my head, telling me some new ideas. This was just a cool dream that I had, that will turn into a really funny story. I have a lot of it written, and it is going really good. So enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters that you recognize, or many of the ones you don't. Is my name JK Rowling? I don't think so.

Chapter 1:

The light side was winning, and Voldemort knew it. There were so many casualties on his side, and barely any on the other. Lucious, Belatrix, Avery, and many more were killed. Snape was also killed for betraying. It was him who made the Order turn up, Voldemort knew it. He just wanted to have a little fun, and as always, the Order had to come and ruin it.

He had sent a large portion of his Death Eaters (they were getting wrestless for action) to a muggle department Store. Snape was with them, the stupid fool. Voldemort was right behind them when they entered the store. He had never been into a department store before, and it was a rather neat experience. The shelves were all lined with stupid, useless items such as the brushes muggle mothers put down the chamber pots to clean them. He gave a shudder of disgust. How could they do all of that without magic? The death eaters, without his orders, started aiming curses at the shelves, and watching with glee as they tipped over and on to the floor, spilling their contents everywhere. Chaos ensued as the muggles all started screaming and running for the exits. Voldemort's mouth twisted into an evil grin. "This is it," Voldemort said to himself. "This is the muggle fun we havenT had in a long time."

He directed the death eaters to certain stations throughout the store. Some of them chucked objects at the muggles using their wands, and some of the more favored death eaters got to torture them first-hand. Voldemort, through all the chaos, didn't see Snape disappear.

Snape slipped out the back entrance of the store. Luckily, no one noticed him leave. He dashed into a secluded parking garage, checked to see that no one was looking, and apparated to Grimald Place. He yelled to whomever was in the house that Voldemort was attacking, and told them to summon the Order members as quick as they could. Then he disapparated.

Belatrix was having a good time. She had managed to capture two muggle children, and right before their eyes, murdered their parents. The brother and sister were in hysterics of grief. "Don't cry wittle baby kiddies," she sneered.

The brother, who seemed to be older, got over himself more quickly than the younger sister. "I can't believe you did this. You're a murderer, and we have a right to report you to the police."

He sounded way braver than he felt. Belatrix laughed. Then the brother, no older than nine, started crying again. "Crucio," Belatrix said mercilessly, glee flashing in her eyes. The brother's agonized screams and the sister's increased sobs could be heard throughout the store. All the death eaters stopped action to watch Belatrix cruelly torture the two children. They were all laughing and cheering.

But the cheering didn't last long. About thirty witches and wizards were streaming through the double doors of the store. Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Kingsley, McGonagall, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, (looking as scared as ever,) Fleur, (holding Bill's hand,) Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna, to name some. And, near the back was Snape. Voldemort's eyes locked on to Snape's for a brief second. Snape sneered.

"Avada kedavra!" Voldemort hissed. Snape didn't hear him. The green light rushed out of the wand tip, and hit Snape in the chest. He was dead. The final battle had begun. And who would have guessed that it would have happened in a muggle department store?

Curses flew in every direction. People were still screaming, as they tried to make their way safely out of the battle of lights and wooden sticks. Ginny was fighting Electo, one of the death eaters who had witnessed Dumbledore's death. "Stupefy. Impedimenta. Stupefy. Stupefy. Stupefy." Ginny said the five incantations in such quick succession that Electo didn't have time to dodge. They hit her, one after the other, and Ginny staggered a little dazed. Electo fell to the floor, unmoving. Ginny gasped in horror. She had killed someone.

Voldemort wasn't expecting this ambush at all. He didn't have very many followers with him. They were out-numbered at least three to one. He threw an avada at Kingsley. Kingsley ducked, and it hit one of his death eaters. Another dead. Rage filled him, this wasn't supposed to happen. This was just supposed to be a flawless muggle torture, nothing more. He punched his fist into his hand.

'It's not over,' he thought to himself. 'Not by any means.'

"Stup," someone yelled, pointing their wand at Voldemort. He blocked it lazily.

"You'll have to do better than that," he taunted, blocking more spells being thrown at him. He glanced around. With horror, he realized that all his followers were dead. The Order was closing in on him. He sneered around at all of them.

"Dumbledore isn't here to get you all out of this, is he?" he asked, setting anti-apparition wards around the store.

"It's you who should be scared," Harry shouted angrily. Voldemort laughed his high, cold laugh. Ron was positively green by now.

"Me? Look at him over there," he said pointing at Ron. "He looks really scared. He seems to be the only one with brains enough to know what's in for him. I'll award you for being the smartest one in the room, Weasley. I'll make your death nice, painless, and easy. Avada kedavra."

Ron didn't even have time to duck. He fell spread-eagled on the floor. "No!" Harry and Hermione said together. They were the only ones to speak, the rest of the room was in total shock.

Voldemort grinned. "Don't worry. You'll be with him soon enough."

"No we won't," Harry said, with gritted teeth. "He may have left, but he'll have to wait a while for us."

At that, spells flew from many different wands. VOLDEMORT deflected some, and dodged still others. This was going to be a lot harder than he had reckoned. He might have been the most powerful wizard in the wizarding world, but that didn't mean he should fight twenty-five fully trained and very close to being fully trained witches and wizards. He needed more recruits. He turned on his heal and tried to apparate. It didn't work. Horror flashed momentarily in his red eyes.

"You moron," Harry taunted. "Did you set your apparition wards against yourself too?" He was laughing.

Voldemort had, in his haste, forgotten to make the wards accessible for him to get out of. He, along with everyone else, couldn't undo them.

"You are thicker than we thought," Harry teased, still laughing. "Now that your here, I'll let you in on a little secret."

Voldemort knew that he wasn't going to get out of this without taking extremely drastic measures. His brain was working fiercely to think of a plan.

"I know how you've obtained your immortality."

Voldemort was paying attention now. Had Harry really figured it out?

"And all six of them have been destroyed," Harry said, glee and pride evident in his voice.

"No you didn't," Voldemort said, outraged.

"Yes I did," Harry said calmly. "And now it's all over."

The next few things happened so fast, Voldemort wasn't even sure if they had happened at all. Spells were coming toward him. He was so dazed with the information Harry had told him that he let his guard down. About seven or eight of them hit him, some on the chest, some on the arms and legs, and one on the forehead. He felt agony beyond anything he had felt before, and he knew right then and there that Harry had been telling the truth. He moaned a little but not loud enough, not wanting to show that he was hurt. He didn't want to show them that they were doing to him exactly what they wanted to for a very long time. But even as he tried to cling on to life, his vision was blurring. He had to do something.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Belatrix stirring. No one was paying her any attention so she sat up very shakily. Then, his brain wrapped itself around an idea. He grabbed the nearest thing to him off of a shelf. It was a nicnac angel. He sneered at the angel in his hand. Angels were supposed to watch over people, guide them, make them find peace. Voldemort almost laughed. Angels had never watched over him. He had never felt love in his life, and no one had ever cared for him. His vision blacked a little more, and he was beginning to feel weak. He concentrated as hard as he could and said the incantation: "Daniah lanton nevrijgras dieglat oevis!"

The angel glowed with a strange green light, and Voldemort felt pain beyond pain, almost like the feeling of making a horcrux, but not quite. He had taken his soul, up to fourteen years of it out of his body, and put it in the angel. That part of his soul was pure, unmamed, and untarnished. Through the pain, he spotted Belatrix on the floor. He hated doing it. He hated doing it almost more than he hated doing anything else, but he had to depend on her to save his life. He did something that he would have never done if his life didn't depend on it. He raised his arm, and threw the angel at her. As his arm was raising, preparing to toss it, the door opened, sending a shock through the room. Before he could stop himself, Voldemort threw the angel. The girl at the door absent-mindedly caught it, looking puzzled. Voldemort was despaired. He knew his plan, no matter how faulty, didn't work. This was the end.

An electric shock vibrated the room. Voldemort, along with the girl, disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

"Now, Rylie, do you have everything?" Ryne taunted at his sister.

"Yes,...I think so," Rylie answered, holding on to her friend Amber's arm as they walked through the gate to get on the plane.

"I don't know. You're such a space head, I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot something," Amber chimed in.

"Shut up Amber, not you too," Rylie said in mock hurt tones.

They had all three been looking forward to vacationing in England by themselves, without any adult supervision. It was just going to be Rylie and Amber, but their parents all told them that someone at least a little older and more responsible would have to go.

"But, I'm older than Rylie," Amber whimpered in her whiny voice.

"Yeah, but you're still a freshman," Amber's dad had said.

"So, I'm still sixteen," she argued.

"How about Ryne goes," Rachelle, Ryne and Rylie's mom suggested.

"I guess that wouldn't be so bad. But, then I'll have to drag around two blind kids," Amber said snootily.

"Amber," her mom accused.

"Well, it's true," she protested. The whining was getting on both Ryne and Rylie's nerves.

"All right, all right. Ryne can come. I can guide two blind kids. That's no problem."

Amber made it a habit of hers to say some snotty remark and then sneak her way out of it.

"Good. Then, you guys might want to get packed. If I get one call from anyone, and I mean anyone," Rachelle snapped her fingers on the last anyone, "then you're coming straight home. Understand me, Ryne, Rylie?"

"Yes," Rylie said, and then under her breath, "YEESH!" Ryne snickered.

"That goes for you too, Amber," Beth, her mom said pointedly. "No snotty remarks."

"I know Mommy," she said, simpering a little.

"And no whiny voice either," Ryne whispered in Rylie's ear. She laughed a little.

"So, you're positive you got everything?" Amber questioned bossily.

"Stop it!" Rylie said, a little irritated. "I know I got everything."

"Welcome to America Airlines. I hope your flight from Indianapolis to London England will be pleasurable."

Amber tilted her head back in her seat, no doubt pretending to be asleep. Luckily they got three seats next to each other. Amber had pleaded with the airline attendant when they got on the plane, saying that it would be Sooooooo hard to find the blind kids. Rylie was half tempted to slap her across the face.

"Can't we get a move on?" Ryne said, agitated.

"I know what you mean," Amber answered, kicking back in her seat.

"Excuse me Miss," the flight attendant said, a little irritated, "but your seat needs to be in the up-right position during take off."

"Oh," Amber said, letting the seat pop back up.

Ryne was looking unhappy about something. "What's your problem?" Amber asked, a little nosily in Rylie's opinion.

"I won't be able to call Cortnie for two weeks," Ryne said, sounding upset.

"Call?" Rylie asked, putting her fingers to her temples. "Call? Oh no, call! I forgot my cell phone!"

"Haaa! So you didn't get everything!" Amber exclaimed.

"No!" Rylie moaned.

"Oh well, you won't really use it much in England anyway," Ryne said. "You'd have to pay about five dollars a minute."

"I know. That sucks," Amber put in.

"Oh well. It doesn't suck for me. I don't have mine."

The rest of the plane ride was uneventful. They ate some grotty snacks and semi-flat pop, but then they got a halfway decent lunch. They still didn't eat much.

When they got there, they all felt a little tired because of the huge time zone change. They called a cab that would take them to the hotel they were staying at. It was a rather nice room, but not too fancy. They exchanged all of their American money into British money.

The rest of the vacation was extremely fun. They ate at all different kinds of places, tried many different foods such as steak and kidney pie, Yorkshire pudding, and spotted dick, went sight seeing (because Amber wanted to,) and even got someone to believe that Rylie was actually from just outside of London. They all found this rather hilarious. They were sitting at dinner, Ryne and Rylie eating fish and chips, while Amber ate a hamburger. She hated fish of all kinds.

"I still can't believe that you managed to make that dude believe that you were actually from around here," Amber was chatting.

"Yeah. That was cool," Rylie agreed.

"I can't believe I havenT called Cortnie in almost two weeks," Ryne said distractedly. Both Amber and Rylie sighed. That was all Ryne really talked about: Cortnie. Cortnie this, and Cortnie that. "I hope Cortnie isn't mad at me for not calling her." "I wonder if Cortnie's doing okay." "I hope Cortnie isn't seeing Josh."

"Josh?" Amber questioned curiously.

"Yeah, Josh Bunn," Ryne said with such bitterness in his voice that it surprised both of them.

"Oh, yeah, I remember him," Amber said.

When they were done, they paid for their food and then left. "I wanna go and get some souvenirs," Amber whined.

"Not with that whiny voice," Rylie scolded.

"I'M not whining," she protested. "And I can take you whereerever I want because I can see and you can't."

"That's not fair. I want to get souvenirs too, but I just wanted to tell you that you were whining."

"Whatever," Amber said.

"Shut up, both of you," Ryne yelled, stamping his foot. They walked on in silence.

"Where do you think we can go?" Amber questioned.

"I don't know. You have the eyes. YOU CAN SEE," Rylie mocked, stressing out the last three words.

Amber suddenly stopped. "What?" Ryne questioned.

"Shh," Amber said. She peered in between two stores and saw smoke and lots of people running.

"Let's go to the department store," she said casually.

"Sure, why not?" Rylie said.

They walked a little further, around the stores. They could all hear screams now.

"Amber, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Ryne cautioned, stopping.

"C'mon. Let's just go see what's going on," she pleaded.

"Okay," he said, not really caring. He was obviously thinking of Cortnie.

They walked around the store and hid behind a secluded parking garage. "What do you think's going on?" Amber asked, peering out at the chaos before her.

"How am I supposed to know. You can see,"

"Shut up, Rylie," Amber hissed. They walked out from behind the garage, and went around until they were in front of the store. Amber stretched her hand and prepared to open the door. "No!" Ryne said. "Don't open it!"

"Why not?" Amber inquired.

"Who knows what's going on inside," he retorted.

Their heated argument kept up for a good two minutes. Rylie, fed up with it, stretched out her hand, and grasped the handle. The door opened, and she was about to step into the room when something flew through the air and landed on her hand. She gasped in momentary surprise, and then she felt a weird sensation jolt her up. She was whirling through nothingness, the object seeming to pull her onward. She couldn't pull her hand away from it even if she wanted to. Then her feet hit solid ground.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Rylie lost her balance, slipped, and fell, putting her hand down to catch her fall. Her hand hit a tile floor, and pain shot up her arm.

'So I'm not dreaming,' she thought.

Wincing, she pulled herself back up. She started walking, trying to even begin to figure out where she was. Most blind people wouldn't be so brave, but she was still hoping this was a dream.

"You did it, didn't you?" someone questioned. Rylie stopped to listen.

"Did what?" another kid inquired.

"Hung my rabbit from the rafters," the first kid accused.

"No, of course not," the second voice retorted.

"Yes you did, Tom Riddle. I know you did. You're always doing horrible, evil things to people. You're evil. I HATE YOU!" The first kid had started crying.

'Tom Riddle?' Rylie thought with a start. 'Young Voldemort Tom Riddle?'

The room felt like it was spinning, and she was flying through air once more. She landed on the ground again and managed to keep her balance. Someone was laughing.

"He does the meanest things, but I can do mean things too," a girl said, still laughing.

"What did you do, Amy?" another kid questioned.

"Well," she said, lowering her voice conspiritorally. "I framed him for something he didn't do!"

"Really?" the other kid said excitedly.

"Remember when he took us into the cave?"

"Yeah, that was scary."

"Well I'm trying to get him back for that."

"How?"

"You know Billy Stubs's rabbit? Well, everyone thought Tom did it, but it was actually me. I hated him for taking us to that horrible cave. So, I killed the rabbit. I knew him and Billy had argued the night before so I killed Billy's rabbit, and I hung it from the rafters."

"That was you?" the other kid asked.

"Yeah," Amy said. "It sure was fun seeing Mrs. Cole yell at Tom. He didn't get supper that night, or breakfast and lunch the next day." Rylie was shocked. That was horrible! She heard running footsteps, and a door slam. She was sure that Tom Riddle had heard the whole conversation.

She was flying through the air again, but this time she landed in a different setting; she could tell by the spacing around her. "Riddle!" a sharp voice yelled, making her jump.

"Yes Miss," Riddle said. He sounded older.

"Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office."

Riddle sighed, putting his book down. "Ok," he said, and stood up.

They walked for a while; Rylie walked almost dream-like through the halls. She knew she hadn't been there before, but she knew exactly where she was going. Someone knocked on a door, and they entered a room, rylie following behind them. She knew that there was an old man sitting behind a desk, and she also knew that the old man was Dumbledore. 'T's weird1' she thought. 'Is this what seeing is like? Do you just know things are there?'

"Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, but still betraying a hint of disappointment.

"Yes sir," Riddle said cautiously.

"I found this all over the floor," Dumbledore said calmly, shaking a box. Rylie heard glass rattling inside it.

"What is that sir?" Riddle said, keeping his voice even.

"You tell me," Dumbledore said, also not showing any emotion.

"I don't know," Riddle said. He sounded sincere, and a little curious to know what the unknown object was in the box.

Dumbledore opened the lid of the box, and Rylie knew at once that it was pieces of a glass angel. "Tom, this kind of behavior has to stop. This wasn't the biggest incident, but it still was really mean. You may have thought this just a glass angel, no big deal. Maybe you got in a fight with someone, and thought the angel the perfect payback. But, do you know how upset you made the girl? No one thinks it's you, but I know your true side. I saw it at the Orphanage. This has to stop."

Riddle stood there, stunned. "I wouldn't do something that mean, Sir," he said quietly.

"I'm just telling you Tom. If I find out you did something like this or something worse again, I'll have to punish you in some way or another." Riddle had no idea, but Rylie knew that the girl who owned the angel broke it to get Riddle in trouble. Rylie squeezed the angel in her hand in irritation. Then, it hit her. This angel was letting her sift through Tom Riddle's memories. And, she knew what was laying ahead of memory lane.

She went through a few more memories, some showing Riddle actually doing mean things, some showing him in fights with other children, and some showing him being blamed for other things he had no part in doing. By the end of it, Rylie was really irritated. She knew he was a bullying teenager, and he could be mean sometimes, but he was still just a young wizard, like every other. She felt some satisfaction that some of his evil plans backfired, but she also felt pity for him. He didn't deserve such horrible treatment.

She was in another room. She had no idea where this was, but she knew what she was going to do. She knew she could either break the angel in her hand, which would end his life and she could go home and not worry about anything, or she could perform the incantation that would save him, and have to worry about him and watch him to make sure he didn't rise to power as Lord Voldemort again. She raised her arm, and tossed the angel on the ground.

But, it never left her fingers. She couldn't do it. Even though he was the young Voldemort, even though he would grow up to murder so many people, she still couldn't end someone's life just like that. He had put his soul into the angel, hoping that someone would come and save him. She wasn't going to let even him down, but she was disgusted at what she had to do first. She had to smear some of her blood on to the angel, weakening herself to save him. He probably thought it would be a death eater who had the angel, and he wanted the death eater to prove his/her loyalty to him. She didn't know how she knew she had to do it, but she did. It was like the "Saving Tom Riddle," process was telling her one step of instruction at a time. She shuddered in disgust. She didn't have a knife or anything to cut herself with.

She started scratching herself, hard. Why was she even doing this? She scratched herself with more vigor until she felt the skin break and blood seep out. She winced in pain and clamped her teeth together, hurriedly smearing the angel along the scratches. It began to grow warmer in her trembling hand. She could even see the bright light emanating from it. She took a deep shaky breath.

"Daniah lanton nevrijgras dieglat oevis!"

The angel flew out of her hands. She thought she had dropped it, and she reached out to grab it, scared that it would fall and break, but it didn't. She was becoming weak. A cloud of smoke billowed out of the angel, and it started trembling on the ground.

'This is dramatic,' Rylie thought, almost laughing in her delirious state.

The angel flew back into her hand, and her feet gave way. She collapsed, but an arm reached out and caught her before she hit the floor. Tom Riddle linked his hand through hers. She flinched, but didn't pull away. In a daze, she said the rest of the incantation: "nevra dianta ievrat lantag digrontras." Her life was fading. She was shocked. Did he set some kind of trap for her? Was he really just sapping the life out of her just to gain more power for himself?

But then he joined with her, and they finished the incantation. Some strength seemed to return to her, but she was still exhausted. The curious jolting sensation began again, and then they were back in front of the department store. Riddle set the unconscious girl on the ground gently, then retreated into the crowd of people.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Tom Riddle was shocked. When he saw the girl catch the angel he was despaired. He figured that his life was over, but it wasn't. She had a choice to kill him or to save him, and she chose to save him. She even scratched herself, vigorous enough to draw blood to save him. He would have expected it out of a Death Eater, but not out of a young girl, no older than his fourteen-year-old self. He felt a certain kind of loyalty and protection toward the girl. He had to figure out some way to help her get to safety.

"Wow Rylie," Amber exclaimed. "That was weird. When you caught that angel, it seemed like you disappeared for a second. That was amazing. It's a cool angel by the way. Can I have it? Why are you laying on the floor? It's really dirty. Are you nasty now. Rylie? Rylie? Oh my god! Ryne, your sister is unconscious!"

"Shut up Amber!" Ryne yelled. "Unconscious? Oh my gosh. Shucks!"

"What do we do?" Amber breathed, bending down to look at her.

"I guess we'll have to carry her back to the hotel," Ryne said simply, trying not to sound worried.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, stepping up beside Amber.

Amber looked at him curiously. "Who are you?" she questioned.

"Tom," he said pleasantly, extending his hand.

Amber took it. "Ummm, Tom, do you think you could help us?"

"We need to get her to the nearest hospital," Amber said, pointing to Rylie. "Even though him and his stupid self said we should carry her back to the hotel," she said, looking at Ryne.

"And, I think he's right," Tom said matter-of-factly.

"No, I'm not. We do need to take her to the hospital."

"She's not hurt. She just fainted," Tom argued.

"Yeah, she fainted. Fainted from what, catching that angel? I don't think that's why she fainted."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing," Tom said, bending down to pick the girl up off the ground.

"What are you, a doctor?" Amber sniffed.

"You know, you're getting on my nerves, and I just met you," Tom retorted, glaring at Amber. "No, I'm not a doctor, but I do know if something's serious or not."

"How?" she inquired. "Give me an example."

Tom stomped his foot impatiently. "I don't have to tell you anything. You're really nosy, and you don't need to know my past, present, and future."

"Jeez! I didn't wanna know all that. I just wanted to know why you don't think her fainting is serious."

"Let's just take her to the hotel. Ok?" Ryne cut in.

"See, he agrees with me," Tom stated.

"Why Ryne?" Amber argued. "She fainted."

"I'm quite aware of that fact. But a lot of people faint, and they don't go to the hospital."

They were silent for a minute. Amber was trying hard to think of a comeback. She hated losing arguments.

"All right. All right. We'll take her to the hotel. My god. I'm not carrying her though."

"Fine, whatever," Tom said, lifting her. "But, can you help me?" Tom asked, nodding his head toward Ryne.

Ryne didn't answer.

"So, I'm going to have to carry her by myself?" he questioned, tapping Ryne on the shoulder in irritation.

"Oh, you were talking to me? I can't see you know."

"Oh," Tom said, suddenly feeling superior to the blind kid.

"Yeah, I'll help you."

They managed to get her back to the hotel without too many problems. A few people stared, and one or two people asked if they needed rides to the nearest hospital. Tom turned them down.

"Whew," Ryne exclaimed, dropping her on the bed.

"This is stupid," Amber whined from the doorway.

"Your whiny tone is going to get you hurt one of these days," Tom growled.

Amber recoiled a little. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she questioned.

"I'm just giving you some advice," he said calmly.

Amber glared at him for a second, then hurried into the bathroom to get Rylie a cold cloth.

"Sorry she's so annoying," Ryne said quietly. Tom snickered.

Rylie awoke about an hour after they brought her to the hotel. "I had the weirdest dream," she said sleep slurring her words.

"What dream was this?" Amber questioned.

"Something about an angel, and...I don't really know," she said, sinking back on her pillow.

"Can you both leave?" Tom asked quiet enough to where Rylie couldn't hear.

"Why?" Amber questioned. "I don't trust you."

"If I would have hurt her or any of you, I would have done it a long time ago," he said, getting frustrated with the snotty girl in front of him. "And, you would have been the first one hurt anyway. You're getting on my last nerves."

"Ok, ok. Come on Ryne. Let's leave Tommy with his girlfriend."

Tom glared. "Ok, whatever, just leave."

"We'll be back in twenty minutes," Amber said bossily. "If I find out you two did anything—"

"Just leave," Tom said sharply. Snickering, Amber grabbed Ryne's arm, and dragged him out of the room.

"Don't drag me, Amber," Ryne protested, pulling away and grabbing her arm.

Tom grabbed the girl's shoulder and shook it, for she had fallen back asleep. "What Amber. You always have to do that, don't you?" she accused, sitting up, the dream still vivid in her mind.

"I'm not Amber, I'm Tom Riddle," he said bluntly, a smirk making its appearance on his face. He was excited to see her reaction.

She pinched herself. "So I wasn't dreaming?" she questioned, her eyes widening a little.

"No," he said, disappointed that her reaction wasn't funnier.

"Oh my gosh," she breathed. Then she gasped and started feeling around. "So where's the angel?" she asked sharply.

"I have it. Are you blind just like your brother?" he asked, still smirking.

"Yes, I am," she said, snatching the angel. "Why didn't you just take the angel and leave?" Rylie asked.

"I probably would have, but I can't take it and leave without your permission. Since you saved me, you have some control over me."

Rylie almost laughed at the bitterness in his voice.

"Well, now I'm asking you, Can I have the angel?" He sounded hopeful.

"I don't think so," she said. "Did you really think you were going to get it?"

"I was hoping?"

"Well you hoped wrong," she said, grinning.

Tom wanted to wipe the stupid grin right off her face. "Well," he said as calmly as he could, which was pretty good given the situation, "what do you want me to do since you're not letting me have the angel?"

"You're gonna come back to America with me," she said simply, almost as if she were telling her friend to pass her a dish of food.

"What?" he yelled, looking horror-struck.

"You heard me," she said, shaking with silent laughter. She calmed herself down so she could keep talking. "Now, I don't think Tom Riddle will suit you. It's too risky to go around with that name."

"I think this whole stupid idea of yours is complete rubbish. I won't do it!"

"Jeez, are you giving up on your life already?" she said in mock exasperation. She raised the angel in her hand, preparing to toss it to the ground.

"No, don't do that!" he yelled, grabbing her hand. "I'll do it." He had no other choice. He wanted nothing more than to strangle the girl laying in the bed beside him.

"Good. Let's think of a name for you then," she continued, gleefully. He could see that she was enjoying this, and he wanted to hex the enjoyment right out of her. "I think you can keep Tom. That won't raise any suspicion."

"Why do I have to keep Tom?" he asked.

"Why not? It's a nice name." she said vaguely. "You can either be Tom or Harry. Or maybe Ron. Well, which one?"

His hands were clenching into silent fists. "Tom then. I don't want that bastard Harry's name."

"I figured. Now, you'll have to blind yourself to get into the blind school."

"Hold on just a second," he said in dangerous tones. "I...am...not...blinding...myself!"

"Is that your final answer?" she said, her smirk still in place.

"Yes," he said.

"You must really not value your life," she said snottily. She again raised her arm and prepared to smash the angel.

"All right!" he yelled, forcing her hand back to the bed. She wished at that moment that she could see. She would have loved to see the look on his face.

"What kind of rubbish is this? I have to blind myself. I hate you. Amber is nothing compared to you!"

He wanted nothing more then to hex her into oblivion. But he couldn't do that. She had the angel, and if he killed her, then he would die too. Also, he knew deep down that she had saved him, and he couldn't forget that.

"How about Tom Rormen?" she questioned.

"Rormen? What kind of stupid, muggle last name is that?"

"I don't know. Why do you have to make things so difficult?"

"You're making my life a living Hell. Why do you have to do that?"

"Oh yes. I'm just going to hand over the angel and let you gain all your power back. You're more stupid than I thought. How about Tom Blackston then? It has something dark in it, and you just have to be evil, don't you?"

"Fine. Tom Blackston. But, I won't blind myself."

"Oh, yes you will," she said, tapping her finger on the angel. Tom had an urge to take the angel and smash it in her grinning face.

'Ok,' he thought. 'I'll blind myself. But, the poor kids at that stupid blind school won't ever forget Tom Riddle.'


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Somehow they managed to get on to the plane. Tom, of course, went with them, to Amber's displeasure. They hadn't stopped bickering since the moment Ryne and Amber came back into the room. Tom was in a sore mood by the time that twenty minutes were up. They had come in to see Tom pacing the room and Rylie still laying in the bed. Amber looked a little disappointed. Tom seemed to notice it. "What are you so put out about?" he accused.

"Nothing," she whined. "I got you food Rylie."

"Don't I get anything?" Tom asked greedily.

"No because you need to be getting home," Amber said. "I don't even know why you're hanging around here anyway."

'Great!' he thought. 'Not only do I have to change my name and blind myself, but I don't even get to be fed.'

"Oh," he said casually. "I would go home, but I don't really have a home to go to."

'Actually I do, but the stupid girl won't give me the bloody Angel,' he thought.

"I'm sorry?" she said, making it sound more like an insincere question.

"You know, you just get worse and worse every minute I spend with you," Tom shot at her.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"You didn't even sound sincere when you apologized. My parents died in a fire, and you're not even sorry about it."

"I didn't know," she said, actually sounding sorry now.

"Yeah. I went on one of my walks, I like walking alone, and I came back and the house was all up in smoke. There was barely anything left. My-my parents didn't get away. T-they died that night. I have some relatives in America, and luckily I was going to visit them."

Rylie felt some serious admiration for the young Voldemort. She couldn't tell a lie like that. The hesitation, the sincerity, everything was there. "Well, when do you leave, you know, on your plane?" Amber asked.

Tom faltered. 'What's a plane?' he wondered, trying to figure out something to say.

"Well, he had a plane ticket, but it along with everything else was burned in the fire," Rylie said, coming to his rescue.

Tom felt a little gratitude toward her mixed with all his emotions of hate he felt for her. "So now you're stranded here in England without a home?" Ryne asked, horrified.

"Yeah, something like that," Tom said bitterly.

"That's horrible!" Amber exclaimed.

"You know, we still have about five hundred pounds in spending money. Maybe we can buy him a ticket on our plane," Rylie suggested.

"Nuh-uh!" Amber said, almost before Rylie stopped speaking.

"Why not?" Rylie shot at her.

"Because I'm not giving up my money on a boy who thinks I'm whiny," she whined.

"Perfect example of whining right there," Tom muttered.

"See? He thinks I'm whiny."

"Well you are," he shot back.

"Please Amber?" Rylie asked.

"I forgot. You like him, don't you?"

"Now, when did that ever come out of my mouth?" Rylie asked angrily.

"We're not going to use it," Ryne said.

"Yeah Amber," Rylie agreed. "Please?"

Amber sat there in thought. Everyone waited for her decision.

"I don't need her money," Tom said excitedly.

"Why not?" Ryne questioned.

"I have my own," Tom said, pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket.

Rylie felt suspicious, but she hid it. "That's great," she said.

"One hundred fifty pounds," he pronounced.

"And you forgot that was in your pocket?" Amber asked, trying not to laugh.

"I have so many other things on my mind right now," he snapped.

"Well, Ryne and I can chip in, and we'll get him a plane ticket," Rylie said, settling the matter.

"How did you get that money?" Rylie asked, as they pulled up in front of Ryne and Rylie's house. Amber had already been dropped off. Ryne had already hurried up to his room to call Cortnie.

"You mean the one hundred fifty pounds?" Tom asked, grinning.

"Yes, the one hundred fifty pounds," Rylie replied.

"I transfigured something into it, duh," he said as though it was totally obvious.

"No you didn't," Rylie accused angrily.

"Well, it worked didn't it? It got me to this stupid place."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"But nothing," he said, interrupting her mid-sentence. She glared.

"Now, it's time for you to blind yourself," she said as though she was saying it was time for him to get up in the morning.

"Do I really have to blind myself? Can't I just pretend?"

"No, they look at your eyes. Nice try."

"Why won't you just give me the angel?"

"Now do I really have to answer that question?"

Rylie's phone started to ring. "Hello," she said.

"Rylie, this is mom."

"Hi Mom."

"Hi. Listen, I'm sorry I'm not here to greet you after your vacation, but I'm at Tony's house. I'll be here for a couple of days. I'll be there in time to take you to registration. Is that ok?"

Rylie knew that even if it wasn't okay, she wouldn't have a choice in the matter. "Yeah, that's fine," she said.

"Good. I'll talk to you later. Bye." The line went dead.

'Well, one dilemma is taken care of,' she thought.

"Well, are you ready?" she asked expectantly.

Resigned to the worst, Tom pointed his wand to his eyes and muttered a spell that made the nerves in the back of his eyes pinch together. He gasped in pain. When he was done, he rubbed his eyes hard, trying to get rid of his new blurry vision.

"I hate it," he stated.

"I never said you would like it."

"That spell is used to stick things together. I never thought I'd use it on my own eyes."

Rylie suddenly dove toward Tom and snatched his wand out of his hand.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he yelled, trying to grab the wand back.

"You know, I would hate for you to use magic at the school. Who knows what you would do to some of the kids there? You would probably use your magic to torture someone. That can't happen. So, I think I have to do this." Rylie snapped his wand in half with a flourish, and threw the pieces on the floor.

"You didn't just do that," he hissed, rage filling him.

"Yes I did," she said calmly. "You and a wand? That's just a little too dangerous."

Tom grabbed her arm, picked her up, and threw her back on the ground. She grabbed his wrist and twisted it as far as she could. He jerked his hand out of her grasp and punched her in the stomach. Winded, she grabbed the nearest thing she could get her hands on, which turned out to be his hair, and pulled, hard. He took hold of her hands, and tried desperately to pry them off his hair.

"Oww, that hurts, damn it!"

He finally managed to push her hands off. He pushed her into the ground, and held her there. "I can't believe you broke my wand, you bitch," he yelled, drilling his knuckles into her chest.

"Talk nice, Tom," she sputtered through gasps of pain. She took the little angel out of the pocket of the hoody she was wearing and raised it above her head. He released her at once. "Works every time," she said, getting gingerly to her feet.

He hated her, hated her with a passion. He wanted to curse her, to use the avada on her, but he couldn't. For one thing, she had the angel, and for another, he didn't have his wand anymore. He tried to think of something, some plan to get out of the situation, but he knew even as his brain tried to formulate some way to escape this nightmare that he was stuck.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

"Is that all they talk about?" Tom questioned as the three of them, Tom, Ryne, and Rylie, sat in Ryne's room listening to the radio.

"What do you mean?" Ryne asked, bewildered.

"This is probably the fourth song out of about seven that has to do with love," Tom said, feeling disgusted that so many people fell to the weakness of love.

"Well, a lot of songs tell someone's personal feelings about something. Love is definitely a personal feeling," Rylie informed him.

"Duh, I know that. But couldn't they find something else to sing about for a change?" he asked.

"I don't know. What does it matter anyway?" Ryne said, a little irritated. The song was _If Tomorrow Never Comes_ by Garth Brooks. No one made fun of Ryne's favorite singer.

Rylie was in a good mood. She had been searching for about a day and a half trying to find some place where Tom could live. Finally, after many painful hours of hard work, she managed to find a family who could foster a child. Somehow she had also figured out that this family was magical. They were a family of witches and wizards, trying to live a life without magic. This would give Tom plenty of practice. While they learned how to live a muggle life, he could learn with them.

Ryne's phone rang. "Hello?" he said excitedly. "Hi Cortnie! Umm, can you two go?"

"Didn't you just get off the phone with her?" Tom inquired.

"Yeah, but she called me back. I wasn't gonna just hang up on her."

"Whatever," Rylie said as she got up and left. It was time for her to break the news to Tom Riddle about his living conditions.

"Tom," Rylie started as they entered her and her sister, Madison's room.

"You guys are such slobs," Tom observed, looking around at the pitted room.

"I didn't pit this room," Rylie said indignantly.

"Really?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"No, I didn't. Anyway, I know where you can live."

"Where?" Tom questioned, sounding disinterested, as he plopped on to the futon.

"With a wizarding family that I managed to find."

He looked excited. "Really?" he asked, sounding a lot more interested.

"Yeah." A grin was spreading on her face. He knew something was up, and the excitement left him as quick as it had come. "They want to live the muggle way. I thought maybe you could learn how to do things the muggle way along with them."

He was extremely angry. "No," he moaned. "You're making my life horrible."

"Maybe I'm teaching you that death is a better alternative to some things."

"I'd rather do that than die," he said desperately. "But this is still horrible."

"At least you'll be with witches and wizards. At least I didn't put you in another orphanage."

"At least I could live any way I wanted at the Orphanage," he said bitterly.

"Ok," Rylie said, getting frustrated with his attitude and pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. "I'll call the nearest orphanage and arrange for you to live there."

"No, don't do that," he said, sounding a little upset.

Rylie felt a little twinge of guilt. She didn't want to make his life that horrible, but she needed him close to keep an eye on him. "You know I'm really not going to call the Orphanage. I'm not even that mean," she told him, putting the phone back.

"I don't know. You're doing lots of other mean things, like snapping my wand."

The guilt returned, this time a little stronger. "I'm really not trying to be mean. But, even you know I'm not just going to hand over the angel."

"I wish you would," he commented.

"Well, I'm not. I'm trying to give you the best life I can without giving you the angel. If I gave it to you, and you became Voldemort, then you would go back to murdering so many people. Then, I would feel like everything was my fault. I just want to make yours and everyone else's life better."

Deep down inside him, Tom knew that she was right. No one could live with knowing they gave a murderer the potential thing that would let them keep murdering. A rare emotion made its presence known inside of Tom Riddle. He felt the slightest twinge of guilt for murdering so many people.

"I'm even trying to find you a family. Maybe this family might care for you," she said.

"Ha! A family caring about me? No one has ever or will ever love me," he said quietly.

They sat there in silence, both of them absorbed in their own thoughts.

"Why would you do that Cortnie?" Ryne yelled, making them both jump, and breaking the awkward silence.

"So, who is this?" the kindly woman asked Rylie as she, Tom, and Ryne sat in her living room. They had taken a bus all the way down to Evansville where the family lived.

"This is Tom Blackston," Rylie said. Tom inclined his head, unsmiling.

"Well, how do you do, Tom?" she asked, smiling at him.

He didn't answer. She didn't seem to mind. "So what's the situation with your parents, Tom?" she questioned gently.

"They're dead," Tom said in a monotone voice.

"I'm extremely sorry to hear that," she said, sounding sincere. "Do you live in an orphanage then?"

"No. They died only a couple of days ago," he said tonelessly.

"How horrible!" she exclaimed"I won't ask you how that happened, that's none of my business. But, how did you end up with these two?"

Tom told her his story of the fire and how his plane ticket was burned along with everything else. He told her how they had all chipped into pay for a new ticket to America."

She didn't seem to care why he had chosen to go to America instead of staying in England, to Rylie's relief. "Well, I think I'll leave and let you two talk in private," Rylie said, standing up. Ryne stood too, and they left.

"I thought he had relatives in America," Ryne accused, the moment they had left the room. "And I was sure you called him Tom Riddle. What's going on?"

Rylie knew she couldn't get out of it, and she trusted her older brother with many secrets, so she hurriedly told him a shortened version of the story.

"You broke his wand?" Ryne asked, snickering.

"Yeah I did. I didn't know what he would do with it if I let him keep it."

"I can't believe you have control over Tom Riddle, over Voldemort. You could make him rub your feet if you wanted to." Ryne was laughing hard.

"I know I could. But I wouldn't do that. And, he isn't really Voldemort. Technically, he hasn't murdered anyone yet."

"That's true," Ryne said thoughtfully. "But it's really weird thinking that we've had the young Voldemort in our house for two days. It's kind of creepy."

"Yeah, it kind of is," she agreed.

Tom came out of the living room at that moment, accompanied by the mother. "Everything's taken care of. He can come and live with us during the weekends. That's all fine."

Rylie couldn't believe how smoothly the plan had worked. A thought of Tom using some sort of wandless magic to nudge her into letting him live there slithered its way into her head.

"So, he did tell you about the blind school?" Rylie asked.

"Of course he did. I'll be glad to take him in on registration."

"Thank you very much," Ryne said.

"No problem. It was really nice of both of you to help him buy a new plane ticket. I'm not really sure why he was coming to America, but that's neither here nor there."

A thought of someone being this happy, and then abusing the child when no one was there, came unbidden into her head. If she got wind of Tom being abused, she would make sure he was out of that house in an instant. But, she figured that nothing like that would happen.

"Bye," Tom said blandly from the doorway.

"Bye," Rylie said. "See you at registration."

They headed out and started walking toward the bus stop. Rylie already knew that this was going to be a very interesting year.


	7. Chapter 7

Note: Ok…I've posted six chapters, and I haven't had any reviews. Is this story even worth writing? I've written up to chapter 18, and I think it's rather good, but if you don't, then just tell me. There really isn't any sense in writing something that no one enjoys reading. Or am I just getting really worried? I mean it has only been two days, but I know some people have been reading. I'm not going to post another chapter unless someone reviews. And, the next chapter is really funny; he finally gets to interact with some of the other kids. So plz review. Now here's chapter 7:

Chapter 7:

It was rather hard for Ryne and Rylie to find their way back to the bus stop and get home without a sighted person with them, but they managed it rather well. Rylie was still amazed that the plan worked as smooth as it did. The family seemed very eager to take Tom in (after he got done talking to them.) Rylie was still a little suspicious. But no one could do wandless magic; that was impossible. Rylie kept the angel with her at all times, making sure nothing happened to it. She was Tom Riddle's life line. She could end his life with a simple flick of the wrist and a smashing of glass. The angel would break, and his life would be over, just like that. The thought of it was rather alarming. She shuddered, holding the angel reassuringly in her hand. She knew she would never end his life unless something extremely horrible happened.

Ryne, Rylie and their mom were all in the van, driving down to Indianapolis for registration. "I can't believe this is the last registration I'll ever be going to," Ryne said.

"Yeah, that is kind of weird to think of," Rylie agreed. "I can't wait to see my friends," and then under her breath, "But not Amber. I'm so sick of her."

Ryne laughed a little. "I never thought I'd spend so much time with Amber. She's really not that bad. She just has a really whiny voice that gets on everyone's nerves."

"Yeah. She is my best friend, but some of the things she does."

"How do you think Riddle's gonna fit in?" Ryne asked curiously.

"I don't know. It'll be interesting to see."

"Eww," Ryne said, sounding grossed out. "What if Levi comes back?"

"That would be gross," she said, making a little gagging noise.

"He's so fat and rude," Ryne said, still in his grossed out manner.

"I know. And he's a spoiled brat too."

Levi Busch was the rudest, smelliest, grossest, most spoiled kid in the school in Rylie's opinion. They had been arch-enemies since he began at the school. To Rylie's pleasure, he had left at the end of her seventh grade year. Her eighth grade year was a lot better because of Levi's departure. She would be extremely disappointed if he came back.

"Stupid Pevi," Rylie said. They called him Pevi because of an incident one of their friends had told them about. According to her, Levi had peed on her couch when he was spending the night at her house for who knew what reason. Levi thought they just liked putting the p on the beginning of his name just to make him mad, so he called Ryne, Pine, and Rylie, Pylie. He didn't even have a clue of the real story behind it.

They pulled into the parking lot of the school. The school was something that both Ryne and Rylie were proud of. It was three floors tall, and it even had a tower. Some people said it looked like a castle, and still others said it looked slightly haunted. They didn't blame both assumptions. The tower, and the verandas probably made it look like a castle. It had been standing for over one hundred years, and it looked old, but not in a bad way. So, the ancient look probably made the large school look haunted. The school used to be in downtown Indianapolis, but it got moved to its current location in the 1930's. But, the building had stood a long time before that. Before the school for the blind moved in, it was used as a college campus.

They got out of the car, and made their way up to the school. They stopped by both Ryne and Rylie's teacher of records and did the necessary paperwork that they did every year during registration. "Here's your new schedule," Miss Klopp, Rylie's TOR (teacher of record,) said, handing the brailled copy to her.

"Thanks," she said, reading.

_Rylie Robinson, 9th grade, quarter 1:_

_1: high school PE: Mrs. George_

_2: Algebra 1: Mrs. Squire._

_3: Spanish: Mrs. Reynolds._

_4: High School Piano: Mrs. Fransisco._

_5: English: Mrs. Reynolds._

_6: Biology: Mrs. Heck._

_7: Choir: Mrs. Fransisco._

"Oh man, I have Mrs. Squire."

"Shh, be nice Rylie," Ms. Klopp said. "She's not that bad."

Tom Riddle sat in the back of the car, looking sulky. He hadn't spoken much to the woman sitting in the driver's seat. He had stayed up in his room most of the day, reading anything he could put his hands on. "We're about there, Tom," she said, turning on to a street called College.

"Oh," he said, not really sounding interested. They drove on in silence. He had thought a lot during the time he spent in his room. He knew that he would be staying at the school during the week, and would be going home during the weekends. He couldn't help it, but he thought that was sort of like Hogwarts. He also hated his new vision. He was going to blind himself in front of Rylie and then unblind himself when she wasn't around. But, she had gone one step ahead of him, and broke his wand. He clenched his hands into fists on his lap. He hated her for making his life so horrible. Why couldn't she just give him the stupid angel?

They turned another corner, and he glanced out of the window, distractedly. He couldn't help but let out a little exclamation of admiration when he saw the school. It looked almost like a very mini Hogwarts. He had seen lots of muggle schools, and he thought this would be just like them, but it wasn't. The school was at least three stories tall, and the campus it was sitting on was really big as well. It looked ancient, but beautifully so. He thought it had its own exotic beauty to it. A twinge of excitement went through him as he gazed through his blurry eyes at the school, his new school. He longed to explore every little nook and cranny of it.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Joanne, the mother, said.

"Yeah," he said reluctantly. "It is rather nice."

They got out of the car, and walked up the three steps leading to the double doors of the school. He glanced at one of the signs standing by the door.

_This school was made a historical landmark in 1986. It was adopted as the Indiana School for the Blind campus in 1933._

'So there's some history?' Tom thought. 'I'll have to research this.'

They entered the school, and walked down the flight of steps to the ground floor. Tom looked around, taking in everything: the carved railings, the pillars, the plaques on the walls. They started walking. "Do you know where you're going?" Tom asked.

"Well, I know we're supposed to go to the gym to get you registered." she said, looking around.

"And, do you know where the gym is?" he inquired, looking amused.

"Well, no, but we'll find it."

They walked on for a couple more minutes, til they came to a set of locker rooms. "Ah-ha," she said. "The gym is through the locker rooms. The boys is just down there a little ways. I'll see you on the other side."

He nodded, and kept walking. He walked through the boys locker room, meeting Joanne on the other side. They walked up a set of ramps, and then turned right into the gym. Tom looked at the floor, curiously. To him, it looked like a giant waffle with little triangular holes in it. There were people going every which way to different tables set against the walls. Tom was smirking. He had just seen an immensely fat person rocking from one foot to the other, their fat rolls bouncing as they rocked.

"Where do you think we should go first?" Joanne asked.

Tom straightened his face the best he could, and glanced around at the tables.

The registering went smoothly except for one problem. Halfway through, Tom had spotted Amber. "Bloody hell," he muttered to himself. "I have to deal with her for the whole year? Isn't Rylie bad enough?"

Amber glanced up from the paper she was signing, and her eyes locked on Tom's. They opened wide with surprise. He grinned and waved at her. She glared. He snickered.

They left the gym, and headed to his Teacher of Record's class. Her name was Ms. Davis. They went through the locker rooms, and then ascended two flights of stairs. They walked on, and Tom mapped it out in his head. This school wasn't too hard to memorize; it was mostly a straight shot down a hallway with a few twists and turns, nothing he couldn't handle. They had gotten very specific instructions to Ms. Davis's room, so they got there without any trouble. Joanne knocked on the door and entered.

"Tom Blackston, Joanne Miller. Nice to meet both of you," Ms. Davis, a fat lady smelling a little like onions in Tom's opinion, said politely.

"Nice to meet you too," Joanne said, shaking the woman's hand. Tom nodded to her.

"No need to be shy, Tom," Ms. Davis said. "No one bites here." She chuckled at her own joke.

'Your smell sure has a bite to it,' Tom thought, and fought to keep his face straight.

"Now," Ms. Davis said, sounding suddenly business-like. "Here's your schedule." She handed it to him.

"You know, your arrival was quite unexpected," she commented.

"Yeah. I wasn't really expecting it either," Tom answer, reading his schedule.

_Tom Blackston, Grade 9, Quarter 1._

_1: High School PE,: Mrs. George._

_2: Algebra: Mrs. Squire._

_3: Spanish: Mrs. Reynolds._

_4: Art: Various teachers._

_5: English: Mrs. Reynolds._

_6: Biology: Mrs. Heck._

_7: Resource: Library._

_He looked over his schedule a few more times. Spanish? Why did he have to learn another bloody language? That was stupid in his opinion. Art? What a stupid class. And, he didn't have any idea who any of his teachers were._

_"Will that schedule be okay?" Ms. Davis asked._

_"Yes, it's fine," he said, folding the schedule up and pocketing it._

_"Good. You'll report to me for ten minutes both morning and afternoon. During these advisory periods, I'll be reading my students the handbook of rules. I expect these rules to be followed. No questions asked. If they say, don't wear sleeveless shirts, I expect no sleeveless shirts from you." She went on for about another ten minutes. Tom tuned her out._

_Then, they visited a dorm. This was where he would be staying the nights. He was irritated that he couldn't have a room to himself. There was only one bed available, and it was with a boy named Levi Busch. Tom didn't know who Levi Busch was, but he was irritated that Levi had to be in his room. "Well, I hope you enjoy your week," Joanne said, patting him on the shoulder. He flinched a little, but she didn't seem to notice._

_"Ok," he said._

_"Bye then. See you on Friday." Then, she left. Tom flopped on one of the couches. It was actually rather comfortable. He had no idea that he was in for the most interesting, amusing, and horrible week of his life._


	8. Chapter 8

Note: Thanks so so so so much for the two reviews. This chapter and all the next are for you and anyone else who reviews. You keep me motivated. Just to let you know, I am blind. Well, enjoy the chapter. Just to let you know, I have up to chapter 22 written, so if you review, you will get frequent updates. Well, here is the chapter:

Chapter 8:

Tom Riddle was startled out of his doze by one of the weirdest noises he had ever heard. He glanced around wildly to see where the noise was coming from. His eyes landed on the door where a fat boy and his snotty looking mother were standing. The sight of the boy disgusted him. "Come on, Honey," his mother said, gently pulling on the boy's pudgy hand.

"I...don't...want...to!!!!" he screamed. "I don't want to go to this stupid school!"

"Now honey. You know you have to go to the school. You bit and punched one of the kids at your other school, so you got kicked out."

"Don't talk about that Mommy," the boy threatened. He had a really high, little-kiddish voice.

"Well, I was just telling you why you have to come back to the blind school," she said gently.

He started his weird noise again. Tom figured out that it was crying, and it sounded like nothing he had ever heard before. He was trying extremely hard not to laugh, and at the same time, he felt revolted that someone cried over the most retarded things.

"Levi, Levi Busch. Stop it!"

Tom almost gagged. That was his roommate? They ascended the steps, and Levi plopped himself right down on the floor and started kicking his legs in fury.

"I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't stay here. I won't, I won't. I...'won't!!"

"Honey, honey, you have to stop this," his mother said, trying to calm him down, but only achieving a hard punch in the stomach.

"Levi!" she said, blinking back tears of pain.

"I don't want to stay here!" Levi said through his "Tears."

"Levi, you know you have to. I have to work during the night now," she tried to sooth. Tom couldn't believe that this inferior being was his roommate.

"Come on Levi," she said, trying to pick the disgusting thing off the floor. Levi, calming himself down just a little, stood up and went up the stairs. Tom hoisted himself off the couch, and followed him. He should probably figure out where his room was.

"You're 213," Levi's mom said. "where is 213? Oh, here it is!" She ushered her still crying son into the room.

"Now, you get first pick of the bed."

"No he doesn't. That one's mine," Tom said pointing to the bed closest to the window. Levi spun around, wobbling a little as he did so. Tom tried not to grin.

"No, I want that bed," Levi yelled, starting his relentless crying again.

"No, my stuff's already there," Tom said, nodding toward his luggage bag.

"Well, it can be moved," Levi said, going over and picking up Tom's bag.

"Don't touch my stuff!" Tom exclaimed in outrage, stomping over and grabbing his bag back.

"Don't yell at my baby," Levi's mom shouted, glaring at Tom. "If he wants that bed, then he'll get the bed. He already doesn't want to be at this school, so can't you at least give him the bed he wants?"

"I don't want to be here either," Tom muttered quietly. "No. My stuff's already there, I got the bed first, so I get to keep it."

Levi ran over as fast as his fat legs would carry him and punched Tom hard on the arm. Tom grabbed him and twisted him around to face him. He didn't care that Levi's mom was watching. "Now you listen here. I won't tolerate you touching my things, and I want you to keep your dirty nasty hands off me. Got it?"

Levi made a weird snorty, growly thing in his throat that sort of freaked Tom out. "Don't you dare put your hands on me. Let go of me, you stupid poopface!"

Tom laughed. "Is that the best comeback you can think of?" He let go of Levi and flopped down on his bed.

"Don't you ever put your hands on my son again," his mom said in dangerous tones.

Tom didn't let any emotion show as he said as calmly as he could, "I won't, unless he starts something with me."

"He would never start anything with anyone," she said defensively.

"Yeah," Levi agreed, still angry that he didn't get the bed he wanted.

"Ok, whatever," Tom said, growing tired of the stupid argument. "I won't touch him. I don't want to put my hands on his filthy self anyway."

Levi started crying again. Tom shuddered in disgust. He couldn't believe his luck.

"It's okay, honey. I have to leave now. Just try to stay away from him. Don't talk to him, just go to bed, and don't bother him. Ok?"

"Ok," Levi sniffled. Tom was utterly disgusted. "I'm leaving," he announced to no one in particular. He got off the bed, and exited the room.

Tom walked down the stairs, and was about to turn into the hall when someone yelled from behind him. "Tom, where are you going?"

"I'm just going walking. I just want to figure some things out."

"Ok," the man said, seeming to not really care. Tom continued to walk down the hall. He turned left and went past c dorm. He saw a machine of some sort at the end of the hall. Curious, he walked toward it. There were six huge buttons on each side of the machine, separated by some sort of thing with slots in it. He read the labels on the buttons. _ Pepsi._ _ Code_ Red. _ Mt._ Dew. _ Dr._ Pepper. What were all those?

Suddenly, someone came hurtling around the corner and collided dead on into Tom. They both gasped in surprise, and Tom saw it was a short, kind of fat boy standing in front of him holding an American dollar. "I'm sorry," the boy said hurriedly. "I was just walking down to the pop machine, and you were just standing there." The boy had a rather curious way of saying his r's. He kind of rolled them with his lips and they came out sort of as w's.

"Who are you?" Tom asked, sounding a lot less irritated than he felt.

"Bryce. Bryce Weiler," the other boy said, extending his hand. Tom took it, and noted with some distaste that the boy had extremely moist hands. He also had a really high voice. Did everyone hear sound like a little kid?

"Tom Rid-Blackston," he said, correcting his mistake.

"Tom," Bryce asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Tom said, already getting annoyed with the kid.

"Can...can I touch your elbows?"

"What? My elbow? Why would you want to touch my elbow?"

"Oh my gosh! Are you British?" Bryce asked, sounding extremely excited.

"Yes," Tom said, leaning against one of the walls.

"That's so neat. y-y-you're my hero." In his excitement, Bryce had started stuttering. "Are you new here?"

"Yes," Tom said, suddenly getting the urge to walk away, but fighting it.

"So am I. You're one of the first people I've met. So, can I touch your elbow?" Bryce questioned. Tom sighed. He had hoped Bryce wouldn't bring up the disturbing question again. Bryce didn't give him any time to answer the question. He dove at Tom, and grabbed his elbow, feeling it feverishly.

"Grr'off," Tom yelled, pulling his elbow out of Bryce's grip.

"You have perfect elbows," Bryce said, sounding dazed. He dove toward Tom's elbow again. Tom jumped away, turned, and started running in the other direction, determined to get away from Bryce.

"Hey," Bryce yelled. "Where are you going? I shall touch your elbows again. They are so perfect." Bryce started chasing Tom. 'He can run pretty fast for someone who's blind,' Tom thought nervously as he rounded a corner. 'And I don't even know where I'm going.'

He ducked into one of the dorms. Bryce ran right past his hiding place. Snickering, Tom peered out and saw Bryce crash right into Amber. He couldn't help but laugh. The look on Amber's face was priceless.

"Hey! Watch where you're going," Amber said, brushing her shirt back in place.

"That's the second person I've crashed into," Bryce said, sounding dramatically depressed.

"Who was the first?" Amber asked, still angry.

"Tom. Have you seen him? He just disappeared."

"I'm right here Bryce," Tom said, stepping out of the dorm laundry room. "Hey Amber."

"What are you doing here?" Amber questioned, scowling.

"It sure is a small world, isn't it?" he asked casually. "The relatives I'm visiting, or actually living with now, live in Evansville."

"Evansville?" Bryce interrupted. "Then, you'll ride my bus. I can touch your elbows all the time."

"Oh no," Tom muttered.

"I didn't know you were blind," Amber whined.

"Partially," he said.

"What's your eye condition?" she asked.

"How the bloody hell am I supposed to know?" he replied angrily.

"You don't even know your own eye condition?" she asked sniffily.

"No. I don't know, and I don't particularly care."

"Whatever," Amber said. "What classes do you have?"

Tom recited his classes. He had already memorized his schedule.

"Oh man, you have some classes with me," Amber whined.

"Oh no. That's so horrible. I think it's horrible I have some classes with you," he retorted. Amber seriously got on his nerves.

Bryce suddenly dove toward Tom again and tried to grab his elbow. Tom side-stepped him. His week had already gotten off to a bad start. He had a horrible roommate, the girl who got on his nerves was at the school, and he had a stalker. This was going to be worse than he thought.

Note: Tom is so muggle ignorant hehehe. Well, review, review, review. They're much love. Thanks so much for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Note: Thanks again for the reviews; they really help keep me on top of writing this story. For some reason, I can't find my story when I search for it. Is that normal, I mean, do only people who pay get an option to enable their stories to be searched, or am I just missing something? Well, if you know, can you help me? Thanks so much, and enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 9:

Somehow Tom managed to get through the rest of the day without too much trouble. He ate some lunch--chicken patties and fries--in the dorm's kitchen, and then sidled lazily into the room branching off of the kitchen (he learned from some of his other dormmates that this large room with tables, chairs, and couches was called the rec room), and flipped a switch to turn on the big, bulky object that projected images onto a screen, which was called a TV. He flipped through the channels aimlessly, finally coming to rest on a rather gory-looking program where a pride of lions were chomping a living buffalo into bits. Tom snickered as he watched the ravenous beasts tear the helpless animal apart, devouring the meat mercilessly. After watching this for a while, however, he became disgusted with such a primitive way of murdering. If he were the head of that pride of lions, he would teach them much more sophisticated ways of killing their prey, instead of just chomping and clawing.

He watched TV for a good hour, until a boy he hadn't seen yet today came strolling into the room, came over to the couch, and plopped down just as though he had been in this dorm for ages.

"Hi," the boy said at once, looking at Tom quizzically. "Are you new at this school, or what? Or have I just not seen you before? Or are you a day student that became residential? Or did you go here before and come back? Why are you here?"

'Wow,' Tom thought. 'This kid's getting on my nerves already.' He eyed the short, thin, red-haired boy with distaste. "Who are you?" he retorted.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the other said. "My name's Jimmy, Jimmy Cole. James Douglas Cole the Third, to be exact. But you didn't answer my question."

'Or questions,' Tom thought irritably.

"My name's Tom, Tom Blackston," he told the boy, remembering to say his name correctly this time.

"And what made you come to the blind school?" Jimmy Cole inquired.

'If he asks one more question,' Tom thought, getting more agitated by the second, 'I shall hex him into oblivion.' Then he remembered with dismay that he no longer possessed a wand. The best he could do would be to punch this annoying idiot in the face if he kept up this constant string of questions. Tom eventually decided that it was better to just nip all the questions in the butt before Jimmy could ask anymore.

"I originally came from England. My parents died, and I have relatives here in Indiana. They live in Evansville, so that's why I'm staying in the dorm. Obviously I've never been here before because I just came to America a few days ago. Anything else?" he said pointedly, fiddling with the TV remote with the air that he would really like to get back to his show.

"Oh, I see," Jimmy said, seeming satisfied. "Well, if you didn't want to talk to me, you could've just told me. Now, can I please watch the TV?"

"No," Tom said flatly. "I was here first."

"And who's been in the dorm and at the school longer?"

"You but—"

"If you want to argue, I think I might just go report you to Mr. Baugh."

"Oh, fine," Tom growled, standing up huffily. "I'll just go walk around the halls for a while."

"You do that," Jimmy said dismissively. Tom stalked out, even more agitated with the annoying boy with the rather agrivating voice now hogging his TV.

As Tom walked down the hall, brooding over the day's events--Bryce, Levi, and Jimmy--three people he had really met and talked to, and all three he hadn't liked at all. Would there be anybody in this place that he would feel any attachment to at all? Everyone else he had seen had merely glanced at him and walked away. Granted, some of them couldn't say anything to him because they hadn't known he was there due to their blindness, but he wasn't about to approach people. He had been disappointed too many times in his life, let down so much, that he distrusted everybody, and let no one in on his own. They would have to come to him first.

Tom was shaken from these bitter reflections by a sharp scream coming from up the ramp that he was currently climbing. As he came nearer to where he thought the noise had come from, a rather bossy female voice yelled, "No, Brett! You will stop acting like this right now! I will not tolerate--OWW, Brett, don't pull hair!" SCREAM, SCREAM, SCREAM! Through his blurry eyes, Tom saw an astonishing sight. A rather attractive-looking woman was marching down the hall, coming from the direction he was currently walking in, actually pulling by the hand a rather chubby, short boy who looked about thirteen. Tom was stunned. What the bloody hell was this lady doing, pulling around a teenager who was perfectly able to walk by himself? And what was he doing, screaming like a bloody maniac? By the high, piercing way he screamed, it sounded like someone was putting the Cruciatus Curse on him thirty times over.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said timidly as the woman and still screaming, thrashing boy came nearer.

"I don't have time to talk right now!" the lady snapped irritably. "Can't you see I'm busy here?"

'Charming,' Tom thought. But he said, "Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just ... you know ... curious, I mean ... I mean, I'm new here, and I was just wondering why ... you know ... I mean, it's none of my business, so if you don't want to tell me ..."

"You want to know why he's like this?" she inquired a bit more kindly, pointing at the boy, who had finally stopped flailing about and was now silent. "Yeah, that's all right. A lot of people wonder. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"Oh, that's quite all right, Miss—"

"Just call me Ms. Ashley," she said. "Everyone does. And as for him, his name's Brett Pangle. His brother, Dylan, goes here to, but Dylan is not like this. You see, Brett is a triplet, and he got the worst end of the bargain. The other boy, Shane, is normal, Dylan is semi-blind, and Brett is totally blind and severely autistic, to put it in short terms. That's why I have to be with him all the time. He can't function by himself. He has the mind of about a four-year-old."

Tom felt a mixture of amusement and disgust at this point. What was the point in living if you had to have someone constantly watching over you? There was absolutely no point in it at all. This Brett Pangle lived as an animal, in Tom's opinion, caged by Ms. Ashley's constant eye, never able to venture out into the world because he was made inferior to others. Fleetingly, a thought came unbidden into Tom's mind, a thought that was gone almost as soon as it surfaced: 'Maybe I could help the poor boy. Maybe death would be preferable in his case.'

"Well, thank you," he said now, rousing himself from his dark thoughts. "And I'm sorry again for irritating you."

"Oh, no problem, uh—"

"Tom Blackston," he said shortly.

"Well, nice to meet you, Tom. Come on, Brett."

As the pair of them walked away, Tom could've sworn that the autistic boy turned and looked at him in such a saddened and pained way that Tom had the most uncomfortable feeling that he had known exactly what the older boy had been thinking.

Tom saw three more people similar to Brett Pangle as he meandered along the hallway. One was an older boy who walked slowly because he had braces on his legs, and whom he gathered from the lady with him was called Josh Taylor; the same fat girl he had seen earlier, named Leslie; and a similarly large and slow-moving girl who walked by herself, so he wasn't able to ask her name. His disgust deepened with every passing autistic person. Was this what the whole school was like?

Finally, he spotted a rather tall, thin girl running down the hall, a girl who did not look like she had problems. To his utter surprise, Ryne came rushing after her moments later, screaming at the top of his voice, "What the hell is this? Are you not glad to see me? Why are you running from me, Cortnie? Why are you playing these games already? Why, gosh!" The pair of them vanished around the corner, Ryne letting out a roar of frustration.

'So that's Cortnie,' Tom contemplated as he returned to his dorm, deciding that he needed an early night.

And finally, as he lay in his new bed, listening to Levi's snuffling, gurgling snores drifting over from the other side of the room, he had to admit it had been a very action-packed day. Tom's emotions were extremely jumbled; he couldn't quite fathom how he felt about the school at the moment. He hadn't really met that many people yet, but he hadn't felt anything for anyone, accept revulsion for the special-needs children. 'I guess,' he thought as he punched his pillows, trying to find a sleep that seemed unlikely ever to come, 'I guess I'm just going to have to wait and see.'

As he finally became drowsy and sleep came to greet him, the face of Brett Pangle swam before Tom's eyes, wearing that same hurt expression he thought he'd seen earlier. And Tom Riddle knew, as sleep overtook him, that as long as Rylie had the angel that held his life, he was exactly like the Pangle boy, constantly watched, like an animal. Tom Riddle was trapped, and there was no escape.


	10. Chapter 10

Note: This is a short chapter, but they begin to get longer. Well, enjoy!

Chapter 10:

Tom woke the next morning and looked groggily at his new alarm clock Joanne had bought him, and gave a start of surprise. It was 6:50. He knew he had to be ready and downstairs by 6:55. He jumped out of bed and hurriedly pulled a pair of jeans and a gray TShirt on, slipped his feet into his tennis shoes, and ran downstairs. Luckily, he had taken a shower before he went to registration, so he didn't feel real dirty.

"Ok, now that everyone's here, we can head down to breakfast," said a woman with an extremely strange way of talking. He glanced around at everyone gathered on the stairs. Jimmy, the really obnoxious boy who took his TV stood beside him, Bryce stood behind Jimmy, and Levi stood in front of Tom. Tom looked to his right and saw an appalling sight. An ugly boy stood there, making gurgling noises in his throat, drool slipping down his chin on to his shirt. Tom was utterly disgusted. Why would anyone sit there and drool in public? But then, unbidden, he saw Brett's face. Maybe this kid couldn't help it.

Tom tore his eyes away from the gruesome sight and started walking down the stairs. He fell back, and walked behind everyone (except the really slow walkers.) "You don't need any help to the dining room, do you?" Jimmy asked. Tom looked straight ahead of him, ignoring Jimmy.

"Hello?" Jimmy said, tapping Tom on the shoulder. Tom turned to face him, glaring.

"I'm walking just fine, aren't I?" he snapped.

"Yeah, I guess you are. I was just trying to be nice. You could at least be courteous enough to turn my offer down nicely." Tom huffed in irritation and continued his relentless fast pace, still resolutely ignoring his annoying questioner.

"Fine," Jimmy said angrily. "But if you ever get lost, don't bother asking me for help."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tom said, not looking at Jimmy. Jimmy had an air of snobby superiority that Tom hated. Just because he'd been at the school for God only knew how long didn't make him the supreme ruler over everyone.

They were climbing the same ramp that he had been climbing the previous night when he had run into Brett. A bunch of kids were already sitting on the ledges on both sides of the dining room doors. Some of the kids looked normal, but other looked like they hadn't the faintest idea where they were. Tom saw two kids talking to each other. Neither one of them looked at the other as they conversed as though they hated each other's guts. It was rather amusing to watch. Tom saw Rylie talking to an African American girl with extremely crooked and spaced teeth. He thought they looked oddly like prison bars. "Oh my Gosh, Amber," the girl yelled, as Amber came walking toward them. Then she collapsed into a fit of giggles. Tom grimaced in disgust. He hated giggly girls with a passion. They laughed at the stupidest things. Rylie wasn't laughing.

"Michele," she said, "When you stop laughing at your stupid jokes, can you see if you can help me find someone?"

"Yeah," she said, trying not to laugh.

Rylie faltered. She didn't know how to describe Tom. She had no idea what he looked like. So, she went by the description in the Harry Potter books. "He's tall, uhh, dark haired," she said lamely. "His name's Tom. He's new here... and..."

"Wow, you're already looking for the new kid?" Michele asked, dissolving into another laughing spell. "Rylie already likes someone."

Rylie was getting angry. 'If one more person says I like Tom Riddle,' she thought.

Tom sighed. What did she want this time? Tom didn't have time however to go and grant Rylie's wishes for it was time to go and eat breakfast. Tom walked in and sat at the table next to a really tall, thin boy, who was talking animatedly to Jimmy. 'How can anyone stand talking to him?' Tom wondered.

Tom was really hungry. If this was indeed anything like Hogwarts, the food would be good. He grabbed the nearest bowl and pulled it toward him. He looked at the mushy stuff in it with a growing feeling of disgust.

"Umm," Tom said hesitantly to the boy next to him. "What is this?" He pointed at the mushy stuff in the bowl.

"What is what," the boy asked, reaching his hand out to feel.

"This," Tom said, grabbing the boy's unprotesting hand, and dumping it into the bowl.

"That would be the oatmeal," he said, pulling his hand out, a look of shock on his face. Tom was trying as hard as he could to keep the laughter contained.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to do that."

"That's okay," the other boy said, wiping his hand furiously on a napkin.

"That's oatmeal?" Tom questioned, looking at the "Oatmeal," in the bowl.

"Tom Blackston!" the woman with the rather amusing speech impediment said, coming over.

"Yes," Tom said calmly.

"Why on Earth did you put Alex's hand in the oatmeal?"

"I really didn't mean to do that Miss," he said, putting an apologetic note in his voice.

"Ok," she said. "But, you should apologize to Alex."

"I'm sorry Alex," Tom said sincerely, while his insides danced with mirth.

"That's okay," Alex said cheerfully. Tom figured that this kid would be really easy to manipulate. Maybe he could have a little more fun with Alex.

Tom didn't touch the oatmeal. It looked too much like mud to him. It couldn't be edible. He looked with disgust at one of the autistic kids stuffing spoonfuls of oatmeal into their mouths, some of it dripping off the spoon on to their lap.

"Can I go on the ledge?" Jimmy asked the house-parent, or at least that's what everyone called her.

"Me too?" Tom asked.

"Yes you may," she said.

Tom walked out of the dining room, and sat down on the hard, cold ledge. He glanced to his left and saw that Rylie was sitting right next to him.

"What did you want?" he asked her. "I heard you ask Spaceface where I was. And, your description was extremely lame by the way."

"Yeah, I know. But, don't call Michele Spaceface," she said sharply.

"Well, her teeth make her face look weird," Tom said.

"Well, that's still not nice at all. I was just wondering how your night went."

"It was horrible," Tom muttered.

"Why?" she inquired. "Who did you meet?"

"Bryce, who is apparently new too, Jimmy, the most obnoxious kid in the entire school, and Levi who is my roommate, unfortunately."

He purposely failed mentioning Brett. He didn't want to talk about that little episode.

"What? Levi? He's here?" Rylie sounded and looked utterly disgusted.

"Yeah. You don't like him either?" he asked, a plan formulating in the back of his mind.

"No. Why did he have to come back?"

"Dunno. Apparently he kicked and bit someone at his other school. And," he said, stressing this word to put dramatic effect on the rest of the sentence, "he's residential."

It looked as though Rylie's Christmas had been canceled. "Oh man," she yelled. "I have to deal with him during the evening too?"

"At least you don't have to be his roommate. I have to deal with him morning, afternoon, evening, and night."

"How was the oatmeal?" Rylie teased, changing the subject.

"It was rather enjoyable. I dunked Alex's hand in it," Tom said casually.

"Why? Why would you do that Tom Riddle?"

"You don't let me have any fun, do you? The oatmeal didn't hurt him any."

"You know, I can make you totally blind. Then, someone might go and dump your hand in something."

"No. I like the little sight I do have, thanks." Tom was irritated. Rylie wouldn't let him do anything. It was like she expected him to be the angel in her pocket, but he wasn't going to do that. No matter what she said, he was going to make his life at the Indiana School for the Blind worth while.


	11. Chapter 11

Note: His first day! How fun hahaha. Enjoy this one.

Chapter 11:

Tom Riddle was utterly and completely exhausted. After dropping the school bag his foster mother had purchased for him on his bed, he trotted downstairs and flopped onto the nearest couch with a huge, overly-dramatic sigh.

'What an abominable day,' he thought dismally. His first day at the school had not gone smoothly at all. Everything had seemed to go wrong for him, right from the second bell of advisory to the dismissal bell at 3:15.

Ms. Davis, his teacher of record, greeted him at the door of her classroom with a rather fake smile and a waft of onion stench. "Well, hello, Tom," she said in a would-be cheerful voice, ushering him inside. "Well, sit down, lots to get done this morning."

"On the first day?" another boy in the room, a rather tall, very thick teenager who looked slightly older than Tom inquired.

"Yes, Shawn," Ms. Davis said, a stern note in her voice. "We have to do attendance, and then I read the handbook. You should know this."

"Oh, yeah," the boy called Shawn muttered, looking unhappy. Tom was unhappy for a different reason. After looking this boy and his very sufficient bulk over carefully, Tom made a mental note to himself to never intentionally pick a fight with or try to manipulate Shawn.

"All right," Ms. Davis said briskly, striding over to her computer (Tom noted with distaste that her jelly rolls jiggled in time with her walk), and clicking the mouse to bring up a program that Tom supposed was the attendance.

"All right," she said again. "Shawn, I assume you're staying." _Click_ went the mouse. "Tom stays." _Click,_ _click._ "Dylan stays." More clicks followed this pronouncement. "And Shelly and Michael go home."

'Dylan,' Tom noted in his head with an unpleasant jolt in his stomach. 'That little kid in here must be Brett's brother.'

Tom raised his hand. "Excuse me?" he said, looking at Ms. Davis curiously.

"Yes, Tom," she replied, looking rather impatient.

"I hate to be nosy, but I've noticed something. Why do some students stay in the dorms and others don't?" he asked, with a nod towards Shelly Jekyl and Michael White.

"Because some of our students live close enough to the school, mostly within the Indianapolis area, that they can go home on a bus each night unless they're here for special events," Ms. Davis explained, shifting around on her desk chair irritably and making it squeak rather threateningly. "People who live about an hour or more away don't really have that luxury."

'I really wouldn't consider it a luxury,' Tom thought to himself, imagining with disgust the thought of living with his foster mother and father day in and day out.

With the attendance done, Ms. Davis picked up a huge, deeply boring-looking book, flipped it open, and began to read slowly and without expression. Tom gathered from what little attention he was paying to the fat woman that this was the handbook, the rules of the school. 'Well,' he thought to himself, a smirk crossing his face, 'I'll find ways around these idiotic prison rules.'

After the rather boring advisory, Tom found his first class, gym, to be quite entertaining. He was infuriated to find out that Levi and Bryce shared a class with him, but it all paid off when the instructor told the group that they were going to start off with some relay races, just for fun.

"Now," said Ms. George. The gym teacher had a very peculiar way of speaking. She pronounced long i sounds in a strange way that made her sound, in Tom's opinion, extremely unintelligent. But he was not entirely surprised by this; intellect didn't seem to exist in very high quantities at this place. "Now, we're gonna divide into groups of five, and if you're a total, you'll need to run with a partner." Tom assumed that "total," meant totally blind, and an evil plan came creeping into his mind at this point. "You'll need to run down to the other end of the gym," Ms. George continued, "and run around the cones. Then you'll turn around, run back, and tag the next person. Those with partners will need to run twice, once for themselves, and again with their partner."

"I'll run with Bryce," Tom offered, his insides dancing with glee.

"Oh, Tom, that's wonderful!" Ms. George exclaimed, clapping her hands rather obnoxiously. "Look at that, everyone. The new boy Tom's using a mega-skill! Does anyone know which mega-skill Tom is using?"

No one answered. Tom gathered from the sulky expressions on many faces that whatever "mega-skills," were, they didn't go down well with many of the students.

"I know, Ms. George!" said a high voice in the back of the group, and Levi Busch began jumping up and down, his hand in the air.

"Go on, Levi," said Ms. George. People snickered. "Suck-up," Tom heard a boy called Michael mutter from nearby.

"It's teamwork!" Levi shouted, clapping his own hands in imitation of the gym instructor.

"Yes, congratulations!" Ms. George said excitedly, positively beaming at the fat, dirty-looking boy in the back of the line. "And because you showed a mega-skill on your very first day, Tom, I'll award you with one of my mega-smiles. I'll even write your card and put it in the box for you. Now, let's GOOOOOOO!"

Everyone on Tom's team was impressed when it was his turn to run. This was because he could outrun pretty much anyone in the gym. This would make things even funnier when it came time to guide Bryce Weiler.

"Oh, Tom!" Bryce screeched, jumping up and down beside him. "Isn't this just so exciting? I get to run with YOU! And best of all, I shall touch your elbow while we run. Can you run slow so that I can touch your elbow longer?"

"Huh?" Tom gasped, bewildered. "Touch my elbow? Why?"

"That's how you guide a blind person," Bryce explained in an obnoxious tone of superiority that made Tom's insides boil. "You have to hold on to their elbow, like THIS!" And before Tom could even move, he felt the wet, moist hand of Bryce Weiler clamp down on his elbow.

"Aaahh," Bryce sighed. "Such perfect elbows. I could touch them all day."

Tom was furious. Had he known that guiding a blind person meant having his elbow touched, he would not have chosen Bryce. However, this would make things even more amusing.

As they took off, Tom sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him, and Bryce stumbled, looking shocked and angry. "Hey!" he yelled. "Slow down! I can't run that fast! Tom, STOP!"

But Tom wasn't listening. He rounded the cones at a jerk, and Bryce's hand slipped off his arm, and Bryce crashed to the floor. Snickering to himself, Tom sprinted to the other side of the gym, ignoring the pained cries of "Ow, ow, ow!" issuing from behind him.

"TOM BLACKSTON!" said a shocked voice, and Ms. George appeared in front of him, looking livid.

The rest of the period was spent in the company of the teacher, by the end of which Tom had managed to convince her that it was, indeed, an accident. He had apologized most sincerely to Bryce, Bryce had forgiven him, and he was once again Ms. George's "new favorite student."

Algebra, he learned, was going to be one of his least favorite classes of all. Not only did he have to share it with Rylie, but Amber was also in there. Amber seemed to feel equal displeasure over this. Mrs. Squire, his math teacher, turned out to be a rather sour grape as well. Upon learning that he had to do all of his homework or he would fail, and that he couldn't retake his tests unless he received an f, and that Ms. Squire did not seem the type to be easily manipulated, he deduced that algebra was going to give him some problems. Or maybe he would give the algebra class some of his problems. He grinned evilly at the thought.

Mrs. Reynolds, his Spanish teacher, was someone he knew as soon as he stepped through the door would not budge from her way of doing things, no matter how Tom tried to trick and dupe her. She gave them a talking-to the moment they had all sat down, explaining her expectations in the class in such a way that made Tom Riddle, for the first time in his life, actually be respectful and pay attention properly. There was no doubt about it; Mrs. Reynolds was good at her job. Even though he respected the teacher, he had no respect for the class. Spanish, in his opinion, was going to be hard, pointless, and tedious, made even more so by the irritating fact that learning another language reminded him of casting spells, which he couldn't do anymore without a wand, thanks to the girl he had to share the first three of his morning classes with. Amber was also in his Spanish class, and to his fury, she occupied the chair right next to him.

Tom Riddle knew by the end of the day that the class he would absolutely despise the most was his fourth period class. For one thing, there wasn't going to be a constant teacher in the art room, which meant that he couldn't learn the style of teaching as well and would have to behave. Also, aside from two other people in the class, he was the only "normal," person that resided there. One of the boys, a boy fatter than Levi and a lot dirtier, took up half the bench beside Tom. When Tom asked the boy, Jerry Callihan, to please scoot over some, Jerry's snide reply was, "No." Then Jerry yawned hugely, and stretched out even farther on the bench, crushing Tom into the other edge.

The boy across from Jerry didn't seem much better. Tom didn't quite know what to think of Josh White because he hadn't really said too much, but he smelled like Jerry and talked about dumb card games like Jerry, so Tom gathered that he was about like Jerry. He didn't know too much about the other two people he shared the class with. He knew that the boy, Jordan Lee, was in his gym and Spanish classes, but the girl, Shaleah, he hadn't met yet and wasn't quite sure what to think of except that she talked entirely too much about nothing in particular. He would have to watch Shaleah closely to see whether he would like her at all or not.

Finally, lunch arrived. After four hours of annoying kids, bossy teachers, and unintelligent, inferior beings, Tom was absolutely starving. He hurried to the cafeteria, hoping against hope that there would be something better than the appalling oatmeal that was breakfast. His nose wrinkled as soon as he stepped through the double doors into the dining room, for the sharp aroma of fish had greeted him. Tom HATED fish.

After wondering around aimlessly, getting very agitated that no one would come and help him find a table, he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked around to see a rather fat serving lady standing behind him.

"Need help?" the lady asked a little snippily.

"Yes," Tom said shortly.

The cook gripped his arm, apparently oblivious to the fact that Tom could see, and guided him towards a table with two empty seats available. After scanning the occupants at the table, he noted with dissatisfaction that Rylie and Jimmy were there, along with Alex, Michele, and a tall, fat boy with short brown hair Tom hadn't seen before. He dropped into the empty seat, eyeing the plate of fish patties in front of him sulkily.

"Hi," said Jimmy, leaning forward at once to try, once again, to engage Tom in conversation, but Tom ignored him as usual.

"You know," Jimmy said, sounding very annoyed, "you are really rude. You don't ever talk to anybody, and you are really mean to me. Do you treat people like this all the time?"

Tom gave him nothing but silence in return.

"Fine!" Jimmy snapped, sounding very angry now. "You know, you're just about as evil as Lord Voldemort." And he spent it next few minutes in huffy silence.

"Hi," said a rather flat, drawling voice to his right, and Tom looked around to see the tall, short-haired kid sitting next to him.

"You look really lost," Tom said nastily, which was true. The boy had a strange, dazed look on his face that Tom hadn't seen anyone wear before.

"Hi," the boy said again. "What grade are you in?"

'He's a retard,' Tom thought, but outloud he said, "That's not the proper way to introduce yourself to someone."

"Will you answer me?" the kid asked without the slightest change of expression in either his looks or his voice.

"Ninth," Tom said shortly, "now leave me alone. I don't talk to people like you."

"Excuse me?" the boy said, looking more puzzled than ever, and rocking back and forth in his agitation.

"What's your name anyway?" Tom questioned. "Stupid idiot?"

"Tom!" Rylie said sharply. "Be nice!"

"Shut up!" Tom snapped. "So what's your name, kid?"

"Jacob," the other boy said, "and you're mean."

"And you smell," said Tom, which was also true. Jacob gave off a very strange scent, like cows in a pasture. "You smell like farm animals."

"Quit, Tom!" Rylie said, more irritated. "Stop being mean." Tom saw her hand drift to her pocket, and Tom said hurriedly. "All right, all right. I'm sorry, Jacob. I didn't mean anything."

To his disgust, Jacob said nothing at all; he just sat there, gazing dreamily into space, and eventually said randomly, "The indoor temperature is twenty-five degrees celcius."

During fifth hour, Tom received a horrible shock. When Mrs. Reynolds gave the class their English syllabus, Tom realized with dawning horror that he couldn't read the print on the page. No matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't decipher the ink written on the paper.

"What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?" he hissed at Rylie. She should explain this to him, since she got him into this mess.

"Well, you'll just have to learn Braille then, won't you?" she said in a rather snippy little voice. "I mean, you may just have to give up your resource for Braille lessons. I'll speak to Mr. Powell for you." She smirked, knowing how hard Braille would be for Tom Riddle to learn. Tom was speechless; he had to learn those strange dot combination the blind kids used? Why, why, WHY??? Wasn't it bad enough that he had to go here, and now he had to learn that horrible system of little dots. And there Rylie was, the arrogant little snot, wearing that smug look, as though her Christmas that had been canceled that morning had suddenly made its presence known again.

Probably the most obnoxious teacher he had met so far appeared in his biology class during sixth period. The science teacher, Ms. Heck, had an air of extremely unrealistic happiness about her that Tom found exceptionally annoying.

The class (once again with Rylie in it) were sitting at their desks for about ten minutes when Ms. Heck, with a broad grin on her face, came bouncing out of the back room, and said, "Well, hello, everybody! Gosh, I'm soooooo excited about this year! We are going to have soooo much fun! For those of you who haven't had me before, I just got off my bat phone!"

Tom neither knew nor cared what she meant by the bat phone. All he knew was that anyone who could be this cheerful had serious problems, and that this Ms. Heck, with her bouncy, unchanging happiness, would be very easy to bend to his will.

During his resource in the big library, Tom didn't do anything except contemplate the day, as he was doing now as he sat in the dorm's living room on the couch. After listening to another few pages of the horrible hand book from Ms. Davis during afternoon advisory, he had come straight back to the dorm, prepared to sleep for days. 'So I was right,' he thought in a daze as he fell into a light sleep, his head sagging onto his shoulder. 'This place is quite interesting, quite interesting indeed.'


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Tom was roused out of his peaceful doze by one of the most unpleasant things imaginable. He was just laying there, enjoying his rest for the long, wearisome day had taken its toll on him, when Jerry plopped himself down on the couch; his fat butt mere centimeters away from smashing Tom's face. A putrid waft of smoke, sweat, and moldy clothes filled Tom's nose. His eyes opened wide, and he shot up off the couch, fighting with great difficulty the urge to slap the fat, dirty kid in his stupid face. "Did I scare ya?" Jerry asked.

"Your actions didn't, but you do," Tom said, still acceptionally angry that Jerry had woken him.

"I know, I scare a lot of people," Jerry said, laughing stupidly.

"Yeah, your looks are sure scaring me. And, do you ever take a shower? That stench of yours could scare anyone."

"I think showers are a waste of time," Jerry said, moving his hand as though waving the unwelcome thought away.

"That's just sick. Why would anyone not want to take a shower?"

"Beats me. I just don't like it."

Tom, still revolted by Jerry's dirty behavior, turned and walked into the computer room. Another nasty stench met his nostrils as he opened the door. The smell was a mixture of BO and sweaty dirt. His nose wrinkled with disgust as he glanced around and saw another fat boy sitting in one of the computer chairs, his butt hanging off both sides, his face pressed against the screen. "Who are you?" Tom inquired, his revulsion growing for the kid every second he looked at him.

"Adrian. Adrian Grice."

"Ok," Tom said, already losing interest in the conversation.

"Who are you?" Adrian asked in the same rude manner as Tom.

"Tom Blackston." Tom turned before Adrian could say anything else and walked out. He went up to his room, and waited for 5:00 to roll around and then he would have to go to dinner.

When Tom entered the dining room, he looked around for his dorm, spotted them, and sat down next to another boy he didn't know. This boy who was pretty tall, with really short dark hair, immediately started tapping Tom on the shoulder in a very irritating fashion, trying to get him engaged in conversation. 'Another annoying kid,' Tom thought to himself. He wondered if he would ever find anyone worth talking to at this abysmal place.

"My name's Zach. What's yours. I know you're new here. I'm pretty new too. I just came last year. Have you met Sierra yet? She's really cute. Actually, I kind of like Rylie. Or Amber. Or Alex. I don't really know who I like. I just know there are so many people to chose from. Have you met Adrian? He's so stupid and fat. Can you believe Levi? He throws the biggest tantrums. Amber kind of gets on my nerves. She's kind of whiny. I like her though. What's your name? Where do you live? Maybe you'll ride my bus. How old are you? What grade are you in?" During this infuriating speech, Zach hadn't stopped his irritating tapping.

'Oh my God. This kid's more annoying than Jimmy,' Tom thought.

"It was really funny today. Brandon, he's the really short kid over there, failed his English pre-test. Isn't that funny? Hahahaha." Zach started giggling almost like a girl. Tom was appalled by his five-year-old behavior and his extremely annoying questions.

"My name's Tom Blackston," Tom said. "I originally came from England. I have relatives in Evansville, so I moved here and, well, here I am." Tom had a sense of dajavou; this had been almost the same response he gave Jimmy.

The dinner was baked pork chops and something that looked sort of like macaroni and cheese, but it had a crusty layer of brown stuff on the top. Tom promised himself that he wouldn't touch that nasty-looking dish of food. He cautiously took a pork chop off the plate, cut a piece, and put it in his mouth. It was rather dry, but it was at least edible. Tom also noted with distaste that the only drinks on the table during all three meals were milk and water. There wasn't any tea or pumpkin juice to be served. 'This was nothing like Hogwarts,' Tom decided.

Tom sidled out of the dining room and plopped onto the ledge away from everyone. He wasn't keen on meeting anyone new; everyone he had met had disappointed him. He just couldn't believe his luck. Out of anyone, anyone at all, a girl, a totally blind girl at that, had caught the angel. Even though he was alive, his plan still hadn't worked, not at all. He was supposed to be in England, lying low, gaining his power back. Once he did this, he was supposed to continue his work, annihilating the muggles and mud-bloods, purifying the wizarding world. And here he was, living with muggles, acting like a muggle, having no other choice. He was supposed to be making new horcruxes, making himself immortal once more. Then, another one of his evil wisps of thought slunk into his head and was wiped out again almost before he had time to think it. "And Rylie would be my first horcrux death."

He was jerked from his horrific thoughts by Ryne's loud, irritated yells. "No Cortnie! That's absolutely terrible! Why would you even think like that?"

Tom was curious to know what the two of them were fighting about. He slid off the bench and went over to perch next to Ryne who seemed not to notice him.

"Ryne. You have to stop acting like this," Cortnie said calmly, even though Tom could see a smile appearing on her face.

"Acting like what? What do I act like Cortnie?" Ryne yelled, looking positively outraged.

"Like you're some little kid. That's what you are Ryne, a little kid."

"No I don't, Cortnie. What you said was really mean. It was horrible!" Tom was irritated that he had missed the first part of the fight. He would have liked to see what Cortnie and Ryne were talking about.

"Well it's true," Cortnie said, the enjoyment evident in her eyes.

"So it is true?" Ryne said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Yeah, maybe it is," Cortnie said casually, leaning back on her elbows.

"Cortnie? How could you even say something like that? Do you really wish you were with Josh and not me?"

"Yeah, maybe I do," Cortnie replied.

"No you don't," Ryne yelled with renewed agitation. He stomped his feet, shaking with rage and irritation.

'So that's it,' Tom said. 'He's upset because she wants to be with another guy and not him.' Tom was appalled that Ryne and Cortnie would put on such a scene in front of everyone. He was especially irritated with Ryne. Ryne seemed pretty intelligent, and here he was, making a scene like this in front of a bunch of people? "So Cortnie," Ryne said, sounding much less angry. "Can you believe that Levi is back?"

Tom had heard enough. He got up and resumed his place on the ledge by himself. He couldn't believe that Ryne was controlled and manipulated so easily. Just the simplest thing could set him off, and he would drop the argument as soon as the other person wanted to drop it. Maybe Tom could use that to his advantage.

Tom returned to his dorm and relaxed for about a half hour, dozing in and out. He then got up and took out his math book. He really wasn't looking forward to doing his homework. He couldn't believe that Mrs. Squire had given him homework the first day, even though he had gotten loads of homework his first day at Hogwarts. Scowling, he opened his text book to Lesson 1 which was luckily just adding and subtracting fractions. He squinted at the print, trying to make out the numbers on the page. He rubbed his eyes hard, and then squinted once more at the paper, his frustration building. He hated doing it, but the only thing he could do was to go and have Amber or Rylie read the problems to him so he could copy down the answers. He sighed, got up, and trudged downstairs, book in hand. He asked Mr. Baugh if he could go over to the girl's dorm for help, and then descended the stairs.

When he arrived, he asked an extremely fat (there seemed to be a lot of those at this school,) short, black lady where Rylie or Amber could be found. He was debating which one he really wanted for his study partner. He hated Rylie's guts, but Amber's voice, which was what he'd be hearing the most since she was reading the questions, was whiny and extremely irritating. "Who are you?" she asked him in an acceptionally rude manner.

"Tom Blackston," he said automatically.

"Oh. So you're new?"

"Yeah," he said, refraining from adding a "Duh," in there.

"Amber is upstairs, and Rylie is in the library," she said dismissively, waving her hand vaguely to show direction. She was yet another pretty unintelligent person at the school. He was beginning to feel trapped; surrounded by a bunch of total idiots.

"Thank you," he said and walked out. At that precise moment, a really small girl with shoulder-length brown hair came hurtling down the steps, not even looking (or feeling) where she was going. Tom didn't even have time to move. Her body collided with his and they both staggered a little. She was small, but she sure put force into the collision. She let an agitated, "Sorry," and gestured her hand as though she were merely brushing him aside.

"You need to watch where you're going," he said icily.

"I can't see you know," she said in a little preppy voice that irked him the moment she began speaking. There was yet another person he knew he wouldn't like. Tom moved back a little, and the girl thinking he left started running toward the office, colliding with him again.

"Sorry," she said again, not seeming to care whatsoever. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she had just embarrassed herself twice in the presence of someone who had no idea who she was.

"You have the worst mobility of any blind kid at this school," he said angrily, rubbing his chin where she had slammed into.

"Oh my gosh. Are you British?" she asked, sounding uncannily like Bryce.

"Yes I am," he stated, moving aside expecting her to walk away. She didn't.

"What do you look like?" Alex said, looking extremely interested. This was definitely being nosy in Tom's opinion.

"Not interested in you, thanks," he said, turning on his heal and walking down the stairs. He heard a dramatic sniffle from behind him. He knew that he had yet another stalker to worry about.

As he had expected, the homework was a nightmare to get finished. Rylie was more than happy to read the questions, but she had that stupid smug grin on her face the whole time and she kept putting in snide comments about learning braille and how she would have to help him probably for most of the year. "It'll take you quite a while to learn everything, braille-wise," she said, sliding her fingers delicately over the tiny dots on the page.

"Do I have to read it with my finger?" Tom asked, hating the look and feel of the little dots.

"Yeah probably. Some people can read it with their eyes, but if you can't even see large print, there will be no way of seeing the dot formations."

Zach, the annoying kid from dinner, came up to Rylie and started talking to her. Her face became more and more irritated as their conversation progressed. "You know, we really haven't talked that much," he said flirtatiously.

"Yeah," Rylie said casually, her face betraying her calm demeanor with an agitated look.

"You know, you look really good in those clothes," he said smoothly. "Do you think I can have a hug?"

Tom snickered, and Rylie, upon hearing this, flushed with embarrassment.

"No," she said, standing up.

"Please?" Zach asked, standing up with her.

"No," she said flatly.

"I'll keep bugging you until you do," Zach pressured.

"All right. A really quick one." He hugged her a little too long to be a quick hug in Tom's opinion and then walked away. Rylie, looking extremely irritated, turned, and walked out of the library.

"Wait," Tom said desperately. "Aren't you going to help me with the rest of my homework?"

She turned back and walked to the table, slamming herself down with an over-dramatic sigh.

Rec was rather uneventful due to the fact that Tom spent most of it up in his dorm room except to go down and get a drink of water from the fountain in the kitchen. He even ran into trouble there. Jimmy sat at the kitchen table eating some cookies and drinking a carton of milk. He glanced up as Tom entered.

"Oh it's you," he said snidely. "It's the one who's extremely rude, the one who won't even be nice to someone who offers them help."

Tom stomped his foot in agitation, turned, and walked out without even getting his drink. He hated that stupid, superior-acting, red-headed freak. Zach was nothing compared to him.

Tom lay in bed, looking out of the window, contemplating the dark sky. It had been a very interesting and action-packed day. 'This school is horrible,' he thought as sleep came to greet him.

But, his wonderful sleep didn't last long. An unpleasant snore came from the other side of the room, rousing him from his slumber. He groaned, rolling over, pressing the pillow over his head to try and block out the sounds. Levi began to whimper in a very little-kiddish manner. The whimpers became more frantic and he began to flail disgustingly on his bed. "Hey," Tom hissed in a loud whisper to try and wake him.

"Mommy!" Levi yelled. "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Levi stood up and ran toward Tom's bed, his eyes tightly shut. Tom wasn't expecting Levi's next move so he was completely stunned when Levi jumped into his bed and snuggled up to him, shaking like a leaf.

Tom let out an actual, genuine gag. He jumped out of his bed and shook Levi violently. Levi seemed to rouse himself out of a very deep sleep. "Tom? I'm so sorry, Tom. I thought you were mommy." He got up and went to his own bed. Tom brushed his bed, making sure the fat kid didn't leave any of his filth there, and climbed back in. Levi had already drifted back to sleep, snoring and gurgling, sounding like a three-year-old kid. Tom Riddle's morning, afternoon, evening, and night were horrible, and he knew that it would only get worse before it got better.


	13. Chapter 13

Note: Thanks for the reviews. They were really nice, and I'm glad you are in to this story. To answer your question, Jimmy just said that thing about Voldemort in passing, mostly. That's the only hint I'm giving hehe. Well, enjoy this one.

PS: I'm going to start naming my chapters;d

Chapter 13: The Six Dot Nightmare

The next couple of days passed by without great incident. In fact, Tuesday and Wednesday went quite smoothly in Tom's opinion. Tuesday morning's breakfast was much more satisfactory than the previous one. There were many different types of cereal available, and Tom also indulged in some strange sausages wrapped in pancake bread on a stick. He had never eaten anything like these in England. There were no relays in gym, so he did not have to run with any totals, and Mrs. Squire, upon grading the previous night's homework, announced that Tom had a perfect score. (Rylie scowled; she had received a minus one.) Spanish turned out not to be nearly as dreadful as Tom had first figured it would be. The language was nothing like learning spells, and it was actually quite easy for him.

The only two classes he really hated were art and biology. He had decided by the second day that he didn't particularly care for Josh White, and that he was right in thinking that Josh was almost exactly like Jerry Callihan, except that he talked a little more. Tom also came to realize that Josh White had a really irritating habit of correcting people when they called him by the name, "Josh."

"It's Joshua,," he would say obnoxiously, stretching the name, especially the last part, out in an agrivating voice that Tom grew tired of very quickly. To his surprise, he found that he could get along with Shaleah, the girl in his art class, quite well. It turned out that she was quite a fun person to talk to, for a while at least. After about half the period, however, Tom would grow tired of her endless yacking and tell her, very politely of course, that he really didn't feel much like talking anymore.

In science, he had to put up with the continuous chatter of Jordan Lee and A. J. Buchko. They seemed to never run out of things to talk about, and Tom had to sit right in between them. So not only did they chat nonstop, but they leaned towards each other, over Tom, to talk to each other. He had also learned that Jordan seemed extremely prejudice to other human races. To Tom's disbelief, Jordan constantly poked fun at his own ethnic group, saying that he hated being Asian. Also, when Tom refused to touch that day's lunch of spaghetti and meatsauce, Jordan, who was passing his table, had said, "Go on, Tom, try it. You're British, and British people eat all sorts of funky stuff." On top of this, he had to put up with his ever-growing annoyance of Ms. Heck. Her constant cheerful manner was really starting to get on his nerves.

That night, he again called on Rylie to help him with his homework. It was math again, but Tom knew it wouldn't just be math for long. His other teachers had hinted around homework the next night, and Tom was getting seriously worried. Moreover, after another pain-staking hour of Rylie's superior smile and annoying snickers, Tom decided that he would rely on her no longer. If he didn't get his homework done, then so be it.

Yes, things seemed to be going relatively well for Tom ... at least until Wednesday afternoon.

As he walked into afternoon advisory, Ms. Davis said, "Now, before we continue with the handbook, I think I was supposed to tell one of you something. Now what was it? Oh yes, Tom, I got an e-mail from Mr. Powell."

'Mr. Powell,' Tom thought, dread filling his insides like poisonous gas. 'The Braille instructor?'

"He says that Rylie talked to him, and she was concerned that you cannot read print to do your homework. She also mentioned that she can't continue to help you every night because she has homework of her own to complete. So this means," Ms. Davis pressed on, a stern note in her voice. "that you'll be starting your Braille lessons with Mr. Powell tomorrow. You'll be having Braille every Tuesday and Thursday during seventh hour."

Tom was absolutely furious. So she had went behind his back and talked to a teacher so he could learn those stupid dots she knew he hated. Well, he would just make the Braille teacher's life a living Hell, just like Rylie was making his.

"So is this all right, Tom?" Ms. Davis asked, sounding as though even if he said "no," the plan would proceed anyway.

"Yeah, I guess," he said grudgingly. "But why does it have to be during my resource? Why can't it be during stupid art?"

"Cut back on the attitude right now, young man!" Ms. Davis barked, firing up. If there was one thing about Rhoda Davis that Tom had learned over the three days he'd been at the school, it was that she had a very quick temper.

"Fine," he muttered. "Sorry. But why does it have to be seventh period?"

"Because that's the only time Mr. Powell is available that will fit your schedule," she said a little calmer, but still wearing a rather angry look on her pudgy face. "Fourth hour is his prep period. That's when he does all of his lesson plans and grades his papers."

Tom sighed heavily. He knew there was no way out of it.

That evening, Tom spent his time cooped up in his dorm room. He was thoroughly depressed. He HATED this school and everyone in it. He wanted to go back to England. He had never known in all his years of living that he would miss England so much. More than anything, the fourteen-year-old in him missed Hogwarts, with its wonderful food, understanding teachers, and Braille-free classes. He had never felt this depressed and disconnected as he did this evening as he lay on his bed, contemplating the bland ceiling above him. He felt totally alone. Tom didn't even have the energy to get up and use the telephone to call up someone to help him with his homework, and he had a math lesson due for Ms. Squire the next day, and some English and Spanish to do for Ms. Reynolds. Luckily, this was due on Monday. Absorbed in his bitter thoughts, Tom fell asleep without even undressing, and didn't even hear Levi come in to get ready for bed with his pre-bedtime talk to his mommy on his new cell phone.

This phone Levi had been given by his push-over mother the day of registration. He was quick to brag to anyone who would listen. "Lookie!" he would screech, shoving the phone in people's faces. "Lookie what Mommy gave me." On top of this, his mother sent him what seemed like a daily supply of cookies--chocolate chip, mostly--from home, which Levi would pick up at the end of each school day from the Education Office, and which he would devour greedily every night before he went to bed, something that Tom was quick to notice with utter loathing for the fat, spoiled boy he shared a room with. But tonight, Tom noticed nothing, for his depression and loneliness had sent him into a very deep sleep, from which he did not awaken until his alarm rang at 5:30 so he could get up and take his shower alone.

One thing Tom hated most about the dorm at the Indiana School for the Blind was the community shower room. There were three shower heads, hidden behind one long curtain, and situated about three feet apart from each other. Tom was appalled. He had seen some of the boys actually taking showers at the same time, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that another naked male was in the shower next to them, so close that they could reach out and touch each other. So far, however, Tom had managed to get up early enough so as to get a shower to himself.

As he strolled into the bathroom, feeling, surprisingly enough, much better than he had the previous evening, he heard the sound that quickly evaporated his semi-cheerful mood. There was water running in the shower, and the unmistakable sound of "James Douglas Cole the Third," humming cheerfully as he took his shower. Tom weighed his options. He would not skip a shower and be like most of the other nasty students around here, but on the other hand, taking a shower with someone else, particularly the obnoxious, humming kid that was currently in there, was repulsive.

Sighing, he set his towel on the sink, picked up his shampoo, soap, and wash rag, and pulled back the shower curtain, making sure he looked to see where Jimmy was before stepping in himself.

"Morning!" Jimmy said brightly, apparently forgetting in his cheerful mood that he did not like Tom. "How are you on this fine Thursday morning?"

"What the hell are you doing up so early?" was Tom's answer.

"My, you never change do you?" Jimmy said irritably. "I fell asleep before I could take my shower last night, and so I got up this morning to do it."

"Mmm," Tom mumbled. "Whatever. Just stay on your own side of the shower."

"What the heck?" Jimmy asked, apparently not understanding at all what Tom meant. "Am I a contamination or something? Why do you think I'd touch you? That's so ignorant."

"You know what?" Tom said through gritted teeth as he began his shower. "You need to get off your high horse and realize that not everything revolves around you, Jimmy Cole, and that you're not the supreme ruler of the universe, AND that you're not always right all the time."

"Okay, okay!" Jimmy yelled, becoming angry. "I just won't ever talk to you again!"

"Boo-hoo," Tom pretend-cried. "I'm soooo sad!"

"You know," Jimmy said in his calm, collected voice again as he turned off his shower and pulled back the curtain. "You are a very unhappy person, and you just ruined my cheerful mood for the day. Thanks, Tom."

"Your welcome," Tom said, snickering.

The rest of the day passed easily enough. To Tom's great relief, Mrs. Squire was absent for the day, and her students had to report to the library for what was called AEP, so he did not have to explain to her why he didn't complete his homework assignment. Actually, the day went pretty fast, so fast in fact that Tom had almost completely forgotten about his Braille lesson. He only remembered when he was sitting in the library, and the PA system came on with its four bells, and informed the school that "Tom Blackston was to report to Mr. Powell's room immediately."

At these words, Tom felt a crashing sense of dread. So the moment to learn that horrible code of dots had finally come. Climbing to his feet, he exited the library, and climbed all the way up to the top floor. Having located the right door, he knocked, and a cheerful, jolly voice said jovially, "Come out!"

After feeling slightly puzzled for a few seconds, Tom understood that Mr. Powell probably meant, "Come in," but was just trying to be humorous, and so Tom entered the room.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the Braille instructor's classroom was its peculiar aroma, one of many peculiar aromas floating around the place. This room smelled like a mixture of ancient paper, gum, very strong coffee, and another scent that Tom could only assume was issuing from Mr. Powell himself. Mr. Powell was a rather short, chunky man, whose jolly look matched his cheerful voice perfectly. 'Easy to manipulate,' was Tom's first thought. The teacher was reclining lazily in a great big rolling chair with a cushion on it, rocking back and forth in the chair so that it squeaked repeatedly. Tom noticed that Mr. Powell appeared not to see too well himself.

"Well, Tom," said Bill Powell, holding out his hand, which Tom shook. "My name is Mr. Powell, and I don't think I have to tell you why you're in here."

"To learn Braille," Tom mumbled, irritated.

"That's right!" laughed Mr. Powell, rubbing his hands together. "You sound upset, but let me tell you, Braille is not that difficult. You just have to have the knack to want to learn it."

'But I don't want to learn the damn dot rubbish,' Tom thought, but he kept this remark to himself. Instead he said, "Who else will be learning with me?"

"Oh, it'll be just you," said Mr. Powell, "Only, I'll have two lessons going on, so you'll have to be patient. I've also got "the crew," during seventh hour."

"Who's "the crew,"?" Tom asked, becoming wary.

"Oh, their teacher should be bringing them up any minute now," Mr. Powell said. "I don't know if you've met Josh Taylor, Leslie Seals, Amber Smith, and YaWanna Fields."

Tom actually clutched the desk for support at this point. So, not only did he have to come here and at least pretend to learn Braille twice a week, but he had to put up with autistic idiots along with it. Leslie, Amber, and Josh he had seen, but this YaWanna Fields he had no idea about.

Right on cue, he heard a tremendous racket of feet and canes tramping up the stairs right outside the door. After much bumping at the door, in came Josh, with his strange, brace-legged walk; Leslie, her fat body waddling from side to side; Amber, breathing hard, and every now and then letting out a huge, dramatic giggle; and a rather skinny girl Tom assumed was YaWanna, who gave up a distinctive aroma of fried and greasy food. Tom wrinkled his nose in disgust. The teacher that they were with spoke a few words to Mr. Powell, and then exited, closing the door behind her.

"Just a minute, Tom," Mr. Powell said apologetically. "Let me get "the Crew," settled and doing their work."

Tom nodded, and tuned out the whole situation as Mr. Powell ushered the retards into their seats, gave them their assignment, told YaWanna to please stop rocking and picking her nose, and then turned back to Tom with a grimace.

"Now," said Mr. Powell, seeming to drop his cheerful manner slightly and becoming much more business-like. "I'm going to write down some lines on a piece of Braille paper. All you have to do is trace the lines with your finger?"

"Why?" Tom asked, a little agitated by the pointlessness of this exercise.

"You need to get the feel of the dots," Mr. Powell said sternly. "You can't actually read Braille correctly until your sense of touch is sharpened. Now, if you're going to act like this, I may actually start assigning Braille homework for you."

'Hell no,' was what Tom felt like saying, but what actually came out was, "I'm sorry, Mr. Powell. I won't question things again."

Mr. Powell pulled a bulky-looking object with six keys towards him that Tom had seen Rylie and some of the other totals use. He had learned that this machine was called a Braille writer. Sliding a sheet of thick paper into it, Mr. Powell punched some keys, typing something across the top line, pushed a button to take him down two spaces, slid something that looked like the return on a typewriter back into place, typed the same thing on the next line, and repeated the process until the whole page was covered in straight lines. Handing the paper to Tom, he said, "Now, just run your fingers over the bumps. Try to imagine that you're actually reading words, and eventually you'll acquire the touch necessary for Braille."

Half an hour later, with the line-reading done, Tom was utterly frustrated and devoid of any spirit.

"I'll see you on Tuesday, Tom, and don't get discouraged," Mr. Powell told Tom as Tom headed out the door. "Keep practicing with the pages I put in your bag."

"Yeah, right," Tom mumbled, trotting out as fast as he could without making it look like he was running. He liked Mr. Powell all right, but he knew that he could never feel any affection for those pointy little dots, and he knew one thing for certain as he left Mr. Powell's classroom: He hated lines with a passion.

As Tom sat in Ms. Davis's advisory five minutes later, brooding over the abominable Braille lesson, the PA dinged into life once again, and the lady told the school that the organizational meeting for track would be held in the gym after school that day. Tom smirked. There was no way on God's green Earth that he would join the school's track team, no way. That required him getting outside, running until his legs felt like they were about to burst open, becoming drenched in sweat, and putting up with the unyielding cheerfulness and yelling of a sports team for an hour and a half. No way, Jose!

That night, Tom met Rylie in the library so that she could help him get caught up on his homework. "So, how was Braille?" she asked, just the tiniest note of smugness in her voice.

"Horrible," Tom replied angrily. "Mr. Powell's nice, but he made me trace stupid lines. He said something like that it would help me acquire the right touch, or something."

"Oh, I had to do that in preschool," Rylie said off-handedly, which made Tom very angry.

"Don't put your superiority on me!" he yelled, his temper flaring to the surface. "You've been doing it for ages! I haven't!"

Rylie actually looked surprised as she said, "Sorry, sorry! I wasn't meaning that. I was just saying."

"Well, go say to someone who cares," Tom snarled.

"What's your issue tonight?" Rylie questioned, looking exasperated.

Tom hesitated, then said, "As horrible and appalling as this week has been, I really don't want to go back to my fake family."

"Don't talk that way, Tom," Rylie scolded. "They were nice enough to take you in, so you should at least appreciate that."

"But they're not my family, and I don't appreciate them acting like they know me," Tom said bitterly. "I hate it there even more than I hate it here."

Guilt made its presence known once again in Rylie's heart, squeezing her insides. It was because of her that Tom had to live this way, and why he had to pick the lesser of two evils. However, she had an idea that might compensate for his having to go home every weekend.

"Why don't you join the track team?" she suggested.

"Huh?" he asked, looking genuinely surprised. "The track team. Why?"

"Because you're definitely good enough to go on the meets, and those happen over the weekend," she explained. "You could be away from home for three or four weeks at a time. In fact, sports happen all year here. After track, there's wrestling, then goalball, then swimming and forensics. I doubt you'd want to join cheerleading."

A vivid image of Tom Riddle in a cheerleading skirt, jumping up and down screaming, "Go team, go!" flashed into Rylie's mind. She fought hard not to laugh.

After a moment's contemplation, he said, "All right, I'll do it. I'll join every sport I can. Anything to stay away from home."

In a way, Rylie was glad that she had offered up the suggestion. But she was also irritated that Tom was showing no respect at all for the family who was being so nice to him. 'Well,' she thought as she read him his English homework, 'He may come around to at least respecting them in time. Who knows? He may begin liking Indiana, and start forgetting all about England.'


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

The next few days passed by in a haze of troublesome mornings and afternoons and sleepless nights. Tom would wake up each morning feeling just as tired and irritated as the night before. Friday, the day after his braille lesson, went rather smoothly until the bus ride home. Tom was feeling thoroughly depressed about going home and seeing his fake family. Also, he wasn't looking forward to riding the bus with Bryce Weiler who would probably bug him the whole way home.

Tom boarded the bus and settled himself in one of the back seats, hoping against hope that Bryce wouldn't sit in the back. Unfortunately when Bryce got on the bus, he seemed to know exactly where Tom was sitting and sat right across from him. Tom scooted as far over in his seat as he could, squishing himself against the window. Bryce immediately tried to engage Tom in conversation. "So, I watched this really interesting football game. One of The Dolphins' team players smashed another player into the ground. It was most definitely the most exciting game I've watched this year. I also purchased a pop from the Student Center, and I got to touch Michele's elbows. By the way, can I touch your elbows?"

Tom had been tuning Bryce out until the very last question, which snapped him out of his own thoughts. Bryce absent-mindedly slid to the very end of his seat, reaching for Tom's elbow. Tom wished he could just disappear through the window and end up back in England. "No," he said flatly. "You can't touch my elbow."

"Why?" Bryce questioned, still reaching blindly for Tom's elbow.

"Because your hands are gross and I don't particularly care for them on my elbow."

At that moment, Tom got wind of that same dirty sweat aroma that he had smelled in the computer room on Monday. Adrian Grice came golumping down the isle and sat right in front of Tom, the seat making a strange deflating noise as he sank into it. Another kid followed Adrian onto the bus. Tom thought this kid looked somewhat like a weasel with his pointed face. The kid sat right across from Adrian. Tom vowed to never sit in the back of the bus again.

Tom leaned back as the bus began to move and put his knees on the seat. He felt Adrian's bulk push against the seat as his knees made contact. Tom hurriedly sat up in his seat, not wanting to feel that gross feeling on his knees even through the seat. They stopped in front of a much smaller building, and the driver got out, returning with two little kids, one of them screaming bloody-murder.

The rest of the bus ride was a nightmare. They stopped at the Deaf School and picked up four kids, all of them trying to beat up one another. The deaf kids occupied the four seats in front of Adrian and the weasel kid who's name was Nick. There was also another kid who was from the Blind School that had gotten on the bus without Tom's noticing. He just sat there as Tom did, not talking to anyone. Tom guessed that him and the other kid were the only two normal people on the bus. Bryce kept up his continuous reaching and pleading for the elbows until he fell asleep about halfway through the trip. Tom also learned that he was to be the last one dropped off, along with Adrian.

"Why can't I be dropped off first?" he asked the driver when it was his turn to be let off.

"Because it wouldn't be fair to the other kids. They wouldn't want to wait on you. And, I wouldn't want to drive clear to Evansville, drop you off, and then go back and drop the rest of the kids off," the driver said snippily. Tom huffed in agitation and jumped down the last three steps.

"Be careful," the driver said, reaching out as though to grab Tom, making sure he didn't fall. Tom ignored his wafflings and went inside the house.

"Hey," Joanne said from the kitchen as she made a pot of spaghetti and meatballs. Tom's insides gave a jolt, thinking of the school's spaghetti and meatsauce. The family was made up of Joanne, which he seemed to see the most of, her husband, Dan, and her two kids Peter and Patricia.

Tom gave her silence in return. "Did you have a good week?" she tried again.

Silence. "Ok, fine. Don't talk," she said, turning back to her spaghetti. "But you know you'll have to talk to me eventually."

Silence. She didn't try again, just merely stirred her spaghetti.

Tom turned and walked up to his room. It was going to be a long weekend.

Tom rode the nightmeric bus back to school on Sunday. He didn't really want to sit in the front of the bus because of the little kids, but he also didn't want to sit in the back with Bryce, Adrian, and Nick who Tom figured out had stinky breath. But, he also didn't want to sit in the middle with the deaf kids. He didn't really want to be in the middle of their constant fights. So, he decided to resume his spot in the back and hope that Bryce wouldn't sit right across from him. Bryce, luckily sat in front of him, but he still tried to reach back and touch Tom's elbow. He managed to get his moist hand around Tom's wrist and started snaking his way up Tom's arm. Tom grunted with revulsion and jerked his hand away. The only thing that kept Tom from losing his mind was the exciting thought of being free this night. Rylie wasn't there to keep a constant watch on him. He had learned that the Lafayette bus didn't run on Sunday. This meant that he was free to do whatever he wished without her scolding him.

When he got to school, he immediately asked Mr. Odum, the other house parent beside Mr. Baugh, if he could walk the halls. "You need to make your bed and unpack first, kay?" Mr. Odum said, turning it into more of a question by the end of the sentence.

"Yeah whatever," Tom said, walking up the stairs. He sifted through the sheets and bedspreads, trying to find halfway decent ones, and then went to make his bed and put his clothes in his dresser. When this was all done, he again went downstairs and asked Mr. Odum if he could walk the halls.

"Are you gonna eat dinner?" Mr. Odum asked. "You should probably eat before you go."

Tom was getting a little irritated with the man. "Can I eat a little later?" he asked.

"I guess. But if there isn't any left, that's your problem."

"I think I'll live," Tom said, not keen on eating the school's food, even though the dorm cooked it.

Tom meandered through the halls for a while, thinking, until, climbing the ramp that lead up to the cafeteria, he spotted Alex, the girl who had collided with him, sitting with another girl, who was sobbing uncontrollably. This girl was tall and rather stalky with dark-blonde hair. He had seen her in class, but hadn't really bothered to pay much attention to her or get to know her. Even though Tom didn't know the girl, he immediately didn't like the sound of her crying. He didn't know why, but she didn't seem like the type to cry. So, he felt the tiniest bit sorry for the girl along with his feelings of amusement and curiosity. He crept nearer, but he didn't have to get too close to hear Alex's yells.

"You know what Sammy," she was screaming. "I hate you. You're so insensitive to my feelings. I just wanted to tell you a little secret and you had to go and blow up like that!"

"That's so stupid though," Sammy said, still crying.

"Stupid! How is it stupid?" Alex inquired starting to cry even though no tears were falling.

"Alex, please. You know he doesn't like you. He even said that he wasn't interested in you. Why would you keep stalking him?"

"I'm not stalking him. I only met him once. He just sounds so hot, him and his British self." She put a little preppy sound in there before she said the last few words, her fake cry apparently forgotten.

"Exactly my point," Sammy said, her tears also forgotten in her agitation. "You just met the poor kid. Why do you have to go and flirt with every guy you meet? That's what annoys me about you, Alex."

"I don't flirt with every guy!" she yelled, stomping her foot dramatically.

"Yes you do," Sammy said, her fury matching Alex's. "You met the guy last week and you're already trying to make plans for him to like you."

"Well, I like the way he sounds. He sounds so hot. If I can just get him to like me. I might buy him something in the Student Center, or maybe I'll just try talking to him."

"But he already said he wasn't interested in you," Sammy pointed out.

"If you can't help me with my problems, I don't want to be friends with you," Alex sniffed, starting her fake crying again.

"That's-that's mean," Sammy said, real tears forming in her eyes. Tom suddenly felt like punching Alex in the face for making Sammy feel so horrible. He was disgusted with himself. Why did he feel this way?

"So! You don't want to help me win Tom Blackston. Then, I don't want to be friends with you," Alex said dramatically. Sammy was crying silently, apparently stunned that Alex would even say something like that.

"Fine," Sammy whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "You're my best friend, but I--I guess not-not anymore." Alex's face broke into a smile. He could see the love of drama in her eyes. Then, suddenly, she got up and started running. Tom hurriedly stepped aside so she wouldn't collide with him again. Sammy was sitting there exactly where Alex had left her, her body shaking with silent sobs, looking shocked that Alex would just leave her like that. Tom felt a mixture of disgust toward Alex for doing something that horrible and sympathy for the broken teenager sitting on the ledge. Tom Riddle never felt these emotions, ever! He tried to wipe the feelings away and put a non-caring emotion in their place, but the feeling only intensified as Sammy sat there, looking extremely upset.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was walking toward her. He hesitated for a few seconds, not wanting to approach her, but his heart lead him to sit down beside her. "What do you want now, Alex? Wanna come back and rag on my judgement some more?" Her tear-stained face had grown agitated.

"Uhh, Sammy," Tom said, feeling extremely embarrassed. Sammy seemed to share his embarrassment; her face flushed with it. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping her face hurriedly on her sleeve.

"Don't be," Tom said. "That was horrible what she did." Realization dawned on Sammy's face.

"Tom? You listened to that whole fight?"

"It was pretty hard to block out," he said, laughing a little.

Her flush deepened. "I suppose so," she said.

"I just wanted to say, uhh, thanks for uhh, ya know, uhh, telling Alex to lay off me." Sammy actually smiled.

"Your welcome. I'm in your classes, and I know you wouldn't want Alex. She would probably dump you in the week anyway." Tom was surprised to hear the irritation and bitterness in her voice.

"Yeah. She seems rather flirtatious," he said. Sammy had stopped crying by now and Tom felt heartened by this. He was about to get up and walk away, but his heart and his emotions kept him seated.

"Was Alex the only thing you were crying about?" Tom inquired, feeling that Alex's dramatic behavior wasn't worth crying over.

"No," Sammy said, trying not to cry again. "Everything just seems to be going wrong."

"Wrong, like how?" Tom asked, feeling pity for the poor girl.

"I-I don't really want to talk about it," she said quietly. Tom knew this wasn't the truth. He could see the mistrust in her eyes.

"You can trust me," he said, a reassuring note in his voice.

"Really?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes you can."

"Well, Alex is extremely mean, Amber was talking about me to Michele, and Levi got so mad at me for no reason at all and spilled milk all over my clothes. My cousins are mean, they always leave me out of everything, and there was a huge flood and our whole garden was ruined. So, now we're living on food stamps." She started crying again, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. Tom had no idea why he did it, he wasn't even planning on doing it, but he gave Sammy a quick awkward hug. Tom was shocked when Sammy hugged him back and started crying into his shoulder. She didn't know why she trusted this new kid, but there was just something about him that charmed her. He patted her awkwardly on the back, starting to feel uncomfortable, but also feeling an emotion that he had never felt before; content. Someone trusted him, cared enough to tell him her secrets, and didn't turn away from him or annoy him. Tom stood, and pulled Sammy to her feet. He steered her toward the ramp and made her walk, telling her that the walking would make her feel better.

They were soon walking down the halls, talking about many different things: classes, braille lessons, grades, and people they hated. She was an extremely fun person to talk too, and he enjoyed her company immensely. She laughed at some of the descriptions of people he gave. "Ahhh," she said dramatically. "I hated those stupid lines when I had to trace them."

Tom was in an extremely cheerful mood when he got back to his dorm. He took his shower, not even taunting Jacob Lynch who was taking his shower with Tom. Jacob was singing some extremely weird tune in a very peculiar voice, but disgusted as Tom was by this, he didn't say anything at all.

He got ready for bed, and settled down to go to sleep. But sleep didn't come. He tried to think about something else, but his and Sammy's conversation kept slinking into his head. Why did he feel like this? He was supposed to feel appalled by Sammy's emotional state, not sympathetic and caring. He had to call Rylie and ask her about it. She knew more about this stupid, emotional stuff than he did. He got up and started sifting through Levi's junk, looking for his phone that his precious mommy gave him. He hurriedly brushed some disgusting, stale cookies aside, and found the phone buried underneath them. He opened it, blew on it to get as much of the contamination off as he could and began to dial the numbers. He just didn't get it. Sammy had annoyed him with her obnoxiously cheerful manner and constant happy "Hi," to everyone she passed. So, why did he feel this way? He punched the call button, and nervously heard the ringing on the other end. He had luckily gotten Rylie's number from Sammy for emergencies exactly like this.

"Hello?" Rylie said after the third ring.

"Hey Rylie," Tom said cheerfully. He heard a gasp of surprise from the other end and the phone drop. He snickered in amusement.

"Tom!" she exclaimed. "How did you get my number?"

"From Sammy. So, how's the angel?" he asked casually.

"It's-it's fine," Rylie said sounding expectant. He knew that she knew he didn't want to talk about the angel.

"Well, it's Sammy I want to talk about," Tom said awkwardly.

"Sammy?" Rylie said, sounding surprised. "Hold on a minute. Shut up Britney."

"Britney?" Tom said, dread sinking into him.

"Yeah. I'm at school, but of course you didn't know that."

"No, I didn't." This put a little damper on Tom's cheerful mood.

"Yeah. The bus doesn't leave early enough for Ryne. He has to go to North Central, so Mom's taking us in on Sundays."

"Oh," Tom said, trying but failing to hide his disappointment. "But anyway, I talked to Sammy today. Well actually, I caught Sammy crying because of a fight she got in with Alex. Then, Alex just walked off and left her."

Tom continued to tell his story, telling Rylie the whole conversation. Tom had a rather agrivating way of telling his stories. He told them in excruciating detail. He seemed to remember everything. Rylie listened without any comment.

"Wow," she said, sounding shocked. "This is exciting. You finally found someone you care for!" She didn't say it arrogantly; she actually sounded genuinely excited.

"Exciting? I'm not supposed to feel this way. I'm Lord Voldemort!"

"No. You're Tom Riddle, not Lord Voldemort. If you were Lord Voldemort, you would have murdered someone by now," she said calmly. "I was hoping this would happen."

Guilt crept into Tom's heart. He had thought of murdering.

"So, it's...normal to feel this way?" Tom said, slightly embarrassed. Rylie actually laughed which angered Tom a little.

"Yes, this is completely normal. If you were Lord Voldemort, you would have never met Sammy. Instead of feeling this way, you would have murdered her piteously. You wouldn't have given her a chance, just thinking her a stupid muggle, nothing more."

Tom knew even before she was done speaking that she was right. If she hadn't caught the angel, forced him to live with muggles, his mind would still be closed to some of the wonderful people out there who just weren't privileged with magical powers like him. He would have just murdered Sammy, with no second thought. "Thanks," he said quietly. "Thanks for everything." He hung up, leaving a rather shocked Rylie on the other end of the line.

Tom Riddle had never known emotions like this. He couldn't hate Rylie anymore, even though her superior-acting was annoying. But, she didn't even act superior during the conversation. If she hadn't caught the angel, he wouldn't have met Sammy. Sammy. The only person who seemed to care for him. 'Maybe,' Tom Riddle thought, slumping back on his pillows, 'This school won't be quite so bad after all.'


	15. Practice and Affection

Chapter 15:

Tom's cheerful mood lasted the rest of the week. He pushed through his classes, even the abominable braille lessons, and managed to get all his homework done. He asked Rylie to read him his math and asked Sammy to read him the rest of his other homework so as to not burden both of them. "So it's sinco?" Sammy asked for the third time.

"Yes yes," Tom said a little irritably. "I've told you yes twice now.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just don't want to get the question wrong. I really want to get good grades."

"Me too, so I guess I don't blame you."

The math wasn't a nightmare either. After the strange conversation between Tom and Rylie, she seemed to be acting extremely nice to him. Rylie even figured out that instead of just reading him the questions and then going back to her dorm and doing them by herself, she would just write down her own answers while she worked with him. Tom was a little amused that she hadn't thought of this before, but he didn't voice his opinion.

"No, that's wrong," he said, scratching something out. "I don't get it."

Rylie waited for a couple more minutes. "Are you ready for the next one?" she asked, having already finished the problem.

"No," he said irritably.

"Need help?" she asked.

"No," he said, not wanting to tell her that he didn't get the picture problem. She had given him a very detailed description of the picture, but he still couldn't visualize it in his head. "All right," he said, knowing she would say a snide remark as soon as he voiced he needed help. "I do need help."

She stood up and brought the thick book around, setting it down in front of him. "I don't know braille," he said snappishly.

"You don't have to know braille for me to help you with this problem," she said, irritated with his attitude.

She took his hand in hers, and traced his fingers along the lines, showing him how she figured out the area of the complex picture. "Did that help?" she asked, after much explaining.

"Yeah," he said, writing down what she had told him. "Math's such rubbish."

"Yeah I know," she said, taking her book and sitting back down.

"No! that's not right!" he exclaimed, reaching across the table and grabbing her arm to keep her from writing.

"Yes it is," she said, pulling her hand away.

"No it's not. I thought you said the bottom right angle was sixty degrees," he said, getting impatient.

"Oh my gosh, you're right," she said. "I wouldn't have even caught that."

He smirked. "Yeah I know. I'm always right."

"Whatever. You needed help on that last problem," she argued. They continued to work together, some of their arguments lasting five minutes. When they were done however, they knew that they had both achieved perfect scores.

The only things that really dampened his good week were the horrific track practices. "We're gonna win this conference," Coach Ford said to a chorus of yells from the team. "We're gonna bring home the trophy. But, we have to train, train hard. So, let's get on it and warm up. I want an 800. That's two laps. I want it nice and easy. Go!"

Tom jogged around the track, keeping pace with the lead boy. He turned to Tom and scowled. "I'm supposed to be the head of this pack," he said arrogantly.

"I don't think so," Tom said angrily.

"Well, I do. Who are you anyways?" the arrogant kid asked.

"Tom Blackston," Tom said shortly. "Who are you?"

"Ryan Harvey," Ryan said, speeding up to keep ahead of Tom. Fury built inside Tom, making his blood boil. He wasn't going to let this big-headed, egotistical, snot win. He sped up also, surpassing the other boy. Ryan ran faster, passing Tom up. Tom didn't know why, but he just knew that he had to beat this kid. they were on their last 200, and Tom was becoming short of breath, but he didn't care. Tom put on a burst of speed, and started sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him. Ryan let out a roar of fury and pursued Tom, catching up to him. They ran neck and neck, each trying with all their strength to pass the other. Tom grabbed Ryan's arm and threw himself in front of him, pumping his legs furiously. Ryan pushed Tom to the ground, and Tom grabbed Ryan's arm again, preventing him from running as he pulled himself to his feet. They began running side-by-side again, and ran over the finish line at the exact same time. Tom's lungs felt like they were being stabbed with invisible knives. He took in great lungfuls of air. "Breathe," the coach said, holding Tom's hands in the air to keep him from holding his stomach. "I told you to run that easy," the coach said sternly.

"I'm sorry sir," Tom said, regaining his breath back enough to talk.

"You're amazing!" the coach exclaimed, thumping Tom on the back. "You kept up with Ryan Harvey. What's your name? I'm sure I haven't seen you on the track team before."

"Tom Blackston," Tom said, still breathing rather hard.

"Harvey!" Coach Ford yelled. Ryan Harvey came over, scowling as he did so. Tom glared furiously at him.

"Yes Coach?" Ryan asked.

"Did you know that this kid kept up with you?" Coach Ford asked, putting his arm around Tom's shoulders.

"Yeah, I did," Ryan said glumly.

"He's got promise," the coach said.

The rest of the practice was very unsatisfactory. They stretched, Ryan and his arrogant self leading most of them along with Mika, a fat girl who thought she was perfect. These stretches seemed to take forever. Then, the girl's track coach, a really fat woman who probably had never ran a lap in her life gave the whole team a lecture on grades. "You can't expect to go on the trips if you have an f or two d's," she said. "Grades are extremely important. We check grades every mid-term and quarter. If we see an f or two d's then you can say goodbye to going on the meets. And, I know you don't want that." She had a rather snippy way of speaking, but all the girls seemed to like her. Tom wasn't going to be one of those people who got ds or fs. He wasn't keen on going home.

Coach Ford gave another lecture on grades, telling them that grades came first and track came second, then they ran for what seemed like ages. By the time track was over, he was pretty tired, and he knew he smelled. So, Tom started a ritual of taking his shower right after dinner. Unluckily, some of the other kids such as Zach and Avery, took their showers after track also, so he never got to shower alone.

"What is that?" Tom inquired as Sammy, Rylie and himself sat around a table at the Student Center. Tom picked up Rylie's pepsi and looked at the dark liquid curiously.

"You've never tried pop before?" Rylie asked, sounding shocked.

"Pop? No. I haven't ever tried it before."

"Try it," Rylie said, pushing the pop toward him. "It's what keeps my life going."

"I'm not drinking after you," Tom said, sounding disgusted.

"Fine," Rylie said, snatching her pop back. "Just buy your own, and waste it if you don't like it." Her before-the-conversation superior voice was back in place.

"Fine," he said, grabbing the pop back. He was acceptionally thirsty. He put the pop to his lips and took a big drink, wanting to make Rylie angry by drinking a ton for using her superior voice. He wasn't expecting the fizzy liquid to go down his throat, smoking as it went. He coughed and spluttered, the after effects of the pop still making his throat fizz. Rylie and Sammy started laughing at his extremely weird reaction to pop. Rylie took her pop back, and her face became irritated. "Why did you take so much? You didn't know if you would even like it."

Tom didn't answer, merely coughing in response. Rylie woofed down the rest of the pop, slamming it down dramatically on the table. "How do you drink it like that?" Tom asked, his voice hoarse from coughing.

"Dunno," she said, tipping back on two legs, debating whether she wanted to go and buy another pop since Tom downed about half of hers. "Rylie, you didn't drink all of that, did you?" Sammy asked, sounding disgusted.

"Yeah, I did. I love pop."

At that moment, Jimmy came strolling over to their table, plopped into the seat next to Rylie, and began chatting with her, not letting her get a word in. Tom, irritated with the interruption, pulled Sammy to her feet and guided her to the nearest couch, flopping down on to it. "What was that for?" Sammy questioned, a little irritated that he had taken her away from the food she was eating.

"Sorry Sammy, but I just didn't want to sit at the same table as Jimmy Cole," Tom said.

"Well, ok," Jimmy said, looking after the two retreating backs.

"Where did they go?" Rylie asked, surprised.

"Over to one of the couches. For some reason, Tom doesn't like me."

"Oh," Rylie said, a little upset that they didn't want to hang out with her just because Jimmy was around. "Ok."

While Tom and Sammy sat on the couch talking, Tom glanced around at everyone. Rylie sat alone at her table, looking a little upset. After looking around a while, Tom saw that Jimmy was up at the cash register, purchasing cookies from the rather annoying, talkative man that ran the Student Center during the evenings. Tom felt a little guilty for up and leaving her, but the thought of talking to Jimmy was repugnant. He also saw Amber, Michele, Zach, Britney, and a boy named Dalas sitting at a table. He figured out that their table was the one making most of the noise. Then, he glanced over to the other couch and saw a sight that made his blood boil. Cortnie was seated next to a much older-looking boy, and they were kissing. Tom was furious with Cortnie for going and playing Ryne that way. "Be right back," he told Sammy, getting up and strolling over to their couch.

"Hello Cortnie," he said coldly.

Cortnie showed no emotion as she drew away from the boy and said, "Hello."

"How's Ryne?" Tom asked casually.

"He's-he's fine," Cortnie said, growing angrier.

"Ryne?" the other boy asked, sounding extremely feminine when he spoke.

"Yes, Ryne," Tom said. "You know, Cortnie's boyfriend."

"It's not what you think, Josh," Cortnie said, as Josh's face contorted with rage.

Tom turned away and plopped back down on his own couch. But, his caring emotions wouldn't leave him alone. He had to go and tell Ryne.

Tom looked around the Student Center again, looking to see if Ryne was in there. To his satisfaction, he spotted Ryne sitting at a corner table, looking extremely agitated. Tom made toward him, rehearsing what he was going to say as he went. He reached Ryne, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Huh?" Ryne said, seeming to come out of a daze.

"Can you come with me?" Tom asked, not wanting Josh or Cortnie remotely near them as they talked about it.

"I don't want to," Ryne said, sounding depressed.

"C'mon Ryne," Tom said impatiently. "I have to tell you something."

"I want to wait for Cortnie. She said that she was going to come to this table when she got done talking to Josh. She was supposed to come about fifteen minutes ago, but..."

Rage filled Tom. Why was this stupid tramp being so evil? Evil. That's what he was when he was Voldemort. He shook himself vigorously, driving the thought out of his head.

"Please Ryne," he said desperately, pulling on Ryne's arm.

"Why can't I stay here?" Ryne asked, a little irritated.

"Fine, whatever. I saw Josh and Cortnie kissing," Tom said, angrily.

"What? Kissing. Yeah right. She wouldn't do something like that," Ryne said defensively.

'Oh yes she would, the evil bitch,' Tom thought to himself.

"I swear she did," Tom said, already knowing that Ryne wouldn't believe him.

'I'm not believing Voldemort!' Ryne thought to himself.

"I don't believe you. Cortnie isn't mean like that." But, even as he said it, a creeping feeling of doubt crept into Ryne's stomach, knotting it. 'Why would he tell me that instead of just letting me find out the hard way?' Ryne wondered.

"Fine, don't believe me. But, I'm telling you, it really did happen." He walked over to Rylie, who still sat at the table.

"Did you know that Cortnie liked this Josh kid?" he asked her.

"Josh Bunn? The feminine sounding one?"

"Yeah, him. Well, I saw him and Cortnie kissing over on one of the couches. I can't believe no one else saw it."

"He didn't believe you, did he?" Rylie asked.

"Of course not. He's too wrapped up in her."

Yes, he was in a very cheerful mood. Just those few little things put a damper on it. But, like always, his cheerful mood wouldn't last long. He didn't know it, but Alex Hurley had been listening to Rylie Sammy, and his conversation. She had been extremely angry when she learned that Tom got on so well with Sammy. She was already beginning to plot her revenge.


	16. Revenge Unfolded

Chapter 16:

The next two weeks passed relatively quickly in Tom's opinion. He would get through the days by looking forward to the evenings which were spent mostly in the company of Sammy and Rylie. At first Tom was annoyed by Rylie's presence (he wanted some alone time with Sammy,) but he had begun to get use to her being there and was even a little irritated when she left with Amber because Amber had talked her into it. Rylie did give Tom and Sammy their space. It was after all Sammy who had brought the change in Tom, and Rylie also knew that she wouldn't be fully forgiven for bringing Tom to America in the first place. Rylie and Sammy would sit in the Student Center for a few minutes, and then Tom would join them. They would talk for a while, and then Rylie would stand up, saying some excuse like "I'm just gonna go to i dorm and see how Ryne and Cortnie are doing." Tom knew Rylie really didn't go up to i dorm. She even said herself that she didn't like going up there because Ryne and Cortnie, every time she would be up there, would be sitting on the same couch, in the same position, and they would ignore her, too busy with their own pleasures.

Tom noticed a change in Rylie just as Rylie noticed a change in Tom. She wasn't arrogant anymore (most of the time) and Tom noted with some satisfaction that she was distancing herself from the angel. During the day it would usually be in her schoolbag rather than her hoody pocket, and she usually left it in the dorm when she went walking during the evenings. Rylie noticed that Tom was nicer, not as sulky, and that he wasn't picking on people quite as much. He would certainly jump in whenever her or Sammy started making fun of someone, but he usually wasn't the one to start it. There were a few acceptions, Jimmy, Bryce, and Levi being the main three, but he barely ever made fun of the special-needs children, which surprised Rylie greatly.

Tom's braille lessons even seemed to be going well. Tom had graduated from lines and tracing by his third lesson, to his utter relief. He had mastered the alphabet in one lesson and was now working on contractions. Mr. Powell insisted that Tom start a journal. He said that this would be a great way for Tom to express his feelings about his new school, and it would also give him a chance to practice braille. Tom was actually rather taken with the idea. He definitely needed someone or something to tell his feelings too, and a journal seemed the ideal thing. So, every night, before bed, he would write the day's events and his personal reflections in his journal. The entries weren't very large; he was slow and it took him a long time to write even a sentence. Also, he wanted to make sure he got every contraction he knew in there every time it came up in the sentence.

Tom and Rylie sat in the library one night working on math. They had kept up this ritual after the first two perfect scores they had achieved. It was a painful process with many arguments, but if it got them good grades, they were fine with it. If Tom and Rylie did have something in common, it was their intellect and their devotion to getting straight a's on their report cards.

"No, that's not how you do that problem," Rylie said.

"Yes it is," Tom shot back, growing weary of the stupid math lesson. "These are the easiest kinds of problems, and I'm extremely good at them. So don't question me."

"I'm telling you, you must have made a mistake somewhere. That just doesn't seem logical."

"Logical? Math isn't logical, it's stupid." He slammed his pencil down in irritation.

"But, fifteen percent of thirty can't be forty-nine," Rylie pointed out. "That's not logically correct."

"Ok, genius, explain to me how it's supposed to be done, the logical way."

"That's the thing though," she said, putting her head in her hands, "I don't know how to do it, I just know your way isn't correct."

"How do you know?" he asked, not even sounding remotely interested.

"I already told you," she said tiredly. "Let's just skip it and move on. We'll go in during advisory and get help."

At that moment, Amber came strolling over to their table, and began tapping Rylie on the shoulder. "Rylie," she whined as she tapped.

"What," Rylie snapped.

"Can I talk to you, away from him?" she asked, pulling on Rylie's arm.

"We're doing math," Tom said irritably.

"Exactly," Amber said. "She's supposed to be doing math with me. That's why my mom put me in that class, so Rylie could help me whenever I wanted her to."

"Well, that's kind of wrong, don't you think?" Tom asked.

"What's kind of wrong?" Amber questioned.

"To only be in a class so you can get all the answers from someone smarter than you."

"I wouldn't do that!" Amber exclaimed. "We were just supposed to help each other. And now you had to come along and take my partner away."

"Well excuse me," Tom shot at her, "but I need her help way more than you do. You see, I, unlike you, can't even read my math book, and I need someone to read it to me."

Amber stood there, trying with all her might to think of a comeback. Amber gave up and said, "Come on Rylie. Can't you please just come and work with me on my math? I really need your help."

"No," Tom said calmly, "She's working with me. So, what problem were we on Rylie?"

"Don't listen to him," Amber whined. "You've been working with me since we were little."

Rylie didn't know what to do. Here were her best friend and the person who said he hated her, fighting over her. She wanted to help Amber because she knew Amber wouldn't stop bugging her until she did, but she also wanted to prove to Tom Riddle that she wasn't as heartless as he thought she was. And, Tom did need her more than Amber did.

"We're halfway through our lesson, Amber," she said patiently, "I don't feel like trekking all my stuff back up to the dorm and working with you, and Tom does need me more than you do right now. I just want to get this lesson done, and then I'll help you. Ok?"

"Whatever," she sniffed. "I knew you'd pick your boyfriend over me."

"Tom's not my boyfriend, and like you wouldn't do the same. How many friends have you been hanging out with since you and AJ'VE been going out?"

"A lot. Just because you don't hang out with me, doesn't mean that I don't hang out with people who actually want to hang out with me."

"So you're saying I never hang out with you?"

"Yeah I am. You're always hanging out with Tom and Sammy."

"Yeah, because unlike you, they won't ditch me when they see someone else they want to hang out with more."

"So you're saying I do that?" Amber whined.

"Yeah, that is what I'm saying," Rylie stated, her cheeks growing red with anger.

"Fine. I just won't hang out with you anymore."

"Like you haven't already been doing that," Rylie muttered.

"I'm not a Michele junior. I don't know why you think I would ditch you, but I wouldn't. That's Michele, not me."

"Oh whatever," Rylie said, slamming her hand down on the table. "You'd be hanging out with me. Then you'd see AJ and you'd be all over him, forgetting that I was even there."

"And, how do you know I'd do that?" Amber inquired, also growing angry.

"Because that's what you did the very first week when I tried to hang out with you. And, that's what you did a couple of days ago when you talked me into walking the halls with you. You saw Dalas, and started talking, so I went back up to the Student Center and hung out with Sammy and Tom again."

"I just wanted you to work with me on my math. I didn't know it would lead to all this," Amber whined.

"It wouldn't have if you wouldn't have made the snippy comment about Tom being my boyfriend."

"Whatever I'm leaving," Amber said, walking away. Then she called back, "And that angel? It's really cool you know. Just sitting on the very edge of your dresser, about to fall off. What if Britney just happens to be passing by and knocks it off. Bye-bye to that angel."

Tom and Rylie both let out audible gasps and stood up in unison. Rylie looked absolutely livid. "Why would you do such a stupid thing like that?" Tom hissed.

"I didn't," Rylie said, her voice thick with rage.

"Oh, so you think the ghosts took the angel and put it on the edge of your dresser?" he asked in mock amusement.

"No," she said, "but I do think someone put it there."

Amber ran down the hall and Tom and Rylie followed her, running right on her heals. "Why are you so protective over that angel?" Amber asked.

"That's none of your business," Rylie snapped, still angry with Amber after the fight they had gotten in.

"It should be my business, since I'm saving it from almost certain death," she said dramatically.

"Umm, I don't think so Amber," Rylie said, climbing the stairs that lead to the dormitory. "I'll be right back, Tom."

She ascended the stairs faster, feeling a mixture of panic and rage. Who would have moved her angel from her locker drawer to her dresser? The answer came to her almost immediately, Amber.

Rylie raced into her room. "What the heck Rylie?" Britney asked.

Rylie didn't answer. She ran to her dresser and began feeling around for the angel. "It-it didn't fall? You didn't knock it off by chance, did you Britney?" she asked, prepared for the worst.

"What are you talking about?" Britney asked, starting to laugh.

Amber came walking into the room, and set a book down on the desk. Flipping to the right page she said, "So, number fifteen says—"

"No!" Rylie interrupted, tears of anger forming in her eyes. "Do you really think I'm gonna help you after what you did? Well, think again."

"Well, you didn't have to trek all your stuff up here, did you? So, why can't you help me?"

"Because that was total manipulation, and it was acceptionally mean," Rylie said, still angry.

She reached into her locker and pulled out the angel, feeling it's reassuring, solid, smooth form. "Why are you so intrigued by that stupid thing?" Amber asked. "I mean, it's a really cool angel, but you can go buy another if it does break. Or...maybe Tom gave it to you."

Rylie's stomach clenched. Technically, Tom had given her the angel but not in the way Amber was meaning it. Rylie almost laughed at the irony of the whole situation. "No," she lied, "but I really don't want to lose another glass angel. I already lost one in the third grade."

"Yeah sure. But if it is just a glass angel, do you think I could have it, ya know, for my very early Christmas present?"

"Absolutely not," Rylie said, squeezing the angel tighter in her hand. "It's mine."

"Well, can't you buy another one?" Amber asked.

"No. I don't want to buy another one, and I wouldn't give this angel to you anyway. You were extremely mean to Tom and me."

"C'mon," she whined. "That angel's so cool."

"Yeah I know. That's exactly why I'm keeping it and not giving it to you."

"I could have caught that angel in the store, not you," she said sulkily.

"Well, you didn't." 'And a good thing you didn't either,' she thought.

"Can I please have it?" she tried again.

"No," Rylie said, a note of finality in her voice.

"Fine. Don't expect a Christmas present from me," Amber whined.

"Fine, I won't," Rylie said. She would be sure to keep the angel close to her in case Amber ever wanted to steal it.

Rylie ran back down the stairs to the main level of the dormitory, told Ms. Hause that she was going to the library, and ran down the rest of the stairs to rejoin Tom. "Well, I guess it hadn't taken the plunge," Tom observed, seeing the angel in Rylie's hand.

"No," Rylie said, looking extremely irritated.

"So was it on the dresser?" Tom questioned.

"No," she said in that same irritated manner.

"So what happened?" he inquired.

"I'll tell you in the library. I want to get as far away from Amber Smith as possible."

That night, Rylie lay in her bed, contemplating the fight. She hated Amber's manipulative ways. It just made her so angry that Amber had fooled her like that. Her phone began to ring.

Levi had found the number in his phone, and he had no idea who it was. He didn't know how the number had gotten into his phone. He was just looking through his out-going calls, and there it was. Of course he wanted to see who it was.

"Hello?" Rylie said.

"Rylie?" Levi's little-kiddish voice said from the other end.

"Levi. How the hell did you get my number?"

"I found it in my phone. It said someone called you on Sunday. I wasn't here on Sunday. Do you know who called me on Sunday, Pylie?"

"No, I don't," she lied, knowing full-well that it was Tom who had called. She was already rehearsing the lecture she was going to give him. "Whatever. I'm getting off, and don't you ever call my phone again."

She hung up. Levi called her back. "Hello?" she said.

"Hi Pylie," he taunted.

"I told you not to call me anymore." She hung up once more. He called her back again.

"Hello?" Rylie said, beginning to sound irritated.

"You're a pea-brain," Levi said, then hung up. He called her back, the fat kid's face breaking into a grin.

"I'm going to get my number changed if you don't stop," Rylie said, flipping up her phone with such force, that it almost flipped right back down.

"No you won't. I'll find out that number too." He hung up again, letting out a girly giggle.

"What are you doing?" Tom inquired, after listening to this whole conversation.

"I know you used my phone without my permission," Levi yelled, standing up and advancing toward Tom.

"Yeah, and?" he said, standing his ground.

"That's my phone, not yours. My mommy gave it to me, not you. So don't use it."

"And what are you going to do to me if I do?" Tom asked, amused at his childish behavior.

"Punch you," Levi said simply.

"You couldn't punch me if you wanted to," Tom challenged, sitting down on his bed. Levi dove toward Tom and tackled him, his fat body crushing Tom. Tom gasped for air and then began punching every part of Levi he could reach. They wrestled for a while, each trying with all their might to subdue the other. Tom didn't know that Levi was so strong. He had thought it merely fat, not muscle. Tom finally got the fat oaf off him and stood, feeling extremely dirty. "I'm moving out of this room," Tom stated.

"You can't. There are no other rooms available."

"I can arrange something. I just can't stand you." Then, he walked out of the room without looking back. He took a nice long shower that night.

It was Wednesday. Sammy and Rylie sat cooped up in Rylie's room working on Spanish. "Me llamo Paco," Sammy said, getting frustrated.

"Yeah, that means, My Name is Paco."

"Yeah I know, but what does the Que mean before it?" Sammy asked.

"Usually it means _What_ or _Who,"_ Rylie said, her confusion growing. Amber and Rylie were still not speaking due to the fact that they were still angry with each other over the fight they had had.

Alex Hurley came into the room, holding her micro-tape recorder in one hand. She had been thinking for the past two weeks of a way to get Tom Blackston to hate Sammy and even Rylie. She had been rummaging distractedly in her night-stand drawer, her mind elsewhere, when her hand hit the recorder. She picked it up, and an idea seemed to click into her brain.

"Hi," she said, sitting on the edge of Rylie's bed.

Sammy ignored her. "I hate Spanish," Sammy said, scratching something out.

"What?" Alex asked. She clicked the button down to record.

"I hate—" She pressed the stop button. "Spanish."

"Yeah me too," Rylie said.

"I still like Tom," Alex said casually.

"You don't need to go out with—" Click went the button, "Tom Blackston."

Alex was smirking. "I hate Levi," she said, a note of disgust in her voice.

"Yeah me too," Rylie said, sharing her revulsion.

Alex had clicked the button down before Rylie spoke, catching her words. Her smirk grew wider.

"I've hated him since the day we met," Sammy chimed in.

"Yeah. But at least you've known him less than I have."

"Yeah I guess I'm lucky," Sammy agreed. "I don't even know why I try to be nice to him."

"Me neither," Rylie said. "We've been arch-enemies since the day we met."

They sat in silence for a few seconds. Alex was just about to stop the recorder when Rylie spoke again. "Did you know he called me on my cell phone?" She sounded totally appalled.

"Are you serious?" Sammy said, sharing her disgust.

"Yeah I am. Imagine my shock and revulsion when I heard his voice on the other end."

Sammy started to laugh. "You're so funny Rylie," she said, still laughing. Rylie joined in, and they both laughed. Alex was smiling for a different reason. The plan had worked so perfectly. She stopped the recorder, and left. "So perfect," she whispered.

Sammy and Rylie, after calming down, returned to their Spanish, not knowing that their harmless conversation about Levi was going to turn into something extremely horrible.


	17. Chapter 17

Note: Finally I'm updating! I haven't updated in forever; I've had reports to do, and I lost my memory stick that had my whole story on it. No, I didn't loose my story; I had another copy on the device I use to write it on, but I couldn't find anything to put the information on so I could transfer it on to the computer. The Spanish report that I worked on was also very time-consuming, but I did get an A on it! I guess that's worth it. But, I'll stop chatting and let you get on with reading the chapter. Well…without further adue: here is Chapter 17!

Chapter 17:

There were actually two conversations about Levi Busch going on at that time. While Sammy and Rylie poked fun at the spoiled brat, oblivious to the fact that Alex was turning their harmless conversation into a plan of revenge, Tom Riddle was taking extreme measures to ensure his removal from Levi's room. He was talking to Mr. Baugh, telling him of the many disgusting and disturbing things that Levi did and would probably continue to do to Tom if he stayed in Levi's room. "He was the one to attack me, honestly he was sir," Tom said desperately. "He tried to crush me."

"And, what did you do after he jumped on top of you?" Tony Baugh asked.

"I...I punched him, sir. But, it was only for self defense purposes."

"But, you shouldn't have punched. You should have just pushed him off and then reported him to me. But, what's done is done, and I won't go and tell the supervisors. They'd probably make a huge deal out of it anyway."

"Sir, if there's any way possible, I mean, if there isn't I'd understand, but if there is any way, do you think I could be moved out of his room? He does so many disgusting things, and I'm really disturbed by them. And maybe, I just can't control my own anger. I really don't want another fight like that happening. For his sake and mine, can't I be moved?"

This was another one of Tom Riddle's very well done speeches. This reminded him a lot of the horcrux incident and getting the horcrux information from Slughorn. He wanted to be moved very much, but he made it seem like this was something he had to do. Mr. Baugh considered him for a moment.

"Tom, I would move you, but there aren't any rooms available. I don't think it's possible."

"But sir," Tom said, trying but failing to keep a note of desperation out of his voice. "Sooner or later, bugs are probably going to make their appearance in his room. I mean, he leaves his disgusting, half-eaten cookies in his drawers without any wrappers or anything."

"He leaves his cookies in his drawers?" Mr. Baugh asked, his disgust evident.

"Yes, and," Tom paused, putting dramatic effect on the next part of the sentence just like he did with Rylie when he told her that Levi was residential, "He tries to get in my bed in the middle of the night."

"Are you serious?" Mr. Baugh asked, becoming angry.

"Yes. He's done it on a number of occasions," Tom said, feeling repulsed.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" Mr. Baugh asked. "That's just wrong and gross."

"Because I thought he wouldn't do it anymore," Tom said, a convincing apologetic look on his face.

"If he's trying to sleep in your bed, then I think you should be moved."

"But, where would I be moved to?" Tom asked. "I thought you said there wasn't any place."

"I bet there are some rooms over in the other dorm. Some of the boys moved out and into another dorm, so there are some empty beds. I think you could pick from Ryne, Shawn, or Michael, but I'll check to make sure."

"So I can move out of this dorm?" Tom said, thoroughly excited to be leaving his unintelligent dorm behind.

"If you want to," Mr. Baugh said.

"Yes, if that's at all possible," Tom said, his excitement growing.

Mr. Baugh picked up the house parent phone and dialed some numbers. He talked to one of the other house parents about Tom's migration to their dorm, then hung up.

"You can share a room with Shawn Nicola, Michael Lewis, or Ryne Robinson. I don't think you'd want to share a room with Ryan Strong, Sean Benke, or Cori Wills. I don't know you real well, but I do know that you probably wouldn't get along with any of those three. Do you know any of the others I've offered?"

"Yeah, I do," Tom said. He didn't know Shawn or Michael, but he did know Ryne. Ryne was intelligent enough, and he didn't seem like a bad roommate, so he decided on Ryne. "Do you think Ryne would mind?" Tom asked uncertainly.

"Oh, I don't think he'd mind. I'll ask Mr. Broyles or Mr. Odum and Ryne if that could be arranged."

"Thank you sir," Tom said, really meaning it. Ryne might be really irksome when it came to Cortnie, but he was a far better roommate than Levi.

While the two Levi conversations were progressing, Ryne sat in i dorm, as usual, when he was called over to his dorm by the house parent. The argument involving Josh had apparently been forgotten as they hugged good-bye. Ryne heartily kissed her. "I'll be right back," he said, getting up.

"Ok," she said. As he walked to h dorm, he thought of the things he had done that night. What could he possibly have done to get himself in trouble? He climbed the stairs and went into the house parent office.

"Ryne," Mr. Broyles said. "How would you like to have Patrick moved out of your room?" Patrick Faylin was an extremely dirty slob with an acceptionally annoying speech impediment. He only came to the school for one week every month. This short course program allowed the participants some experience with the school before actually attending. Ryne hated short course; it disrupted the routine of the dorm. Unluckily, Patrick Faylin, the worst of the short course bunch, happened to be his roommate. This was a "Patrick," week, and he was hating it. "So you'd just move Patrick if I wanted him moved?" Ryne asked, knowing this was too good to be true.

"Not exactly," Mr. Broyles said. "You see, Tom Blackston I guess got in some pretty major fights with Levi Busch, his current roommate, and requested to be moved. Mr. Baugh asked him which person in this dorm he wanted for his new roommate, and he picked you. We told him that we'd have to talk to you first. You wouldn't mind being his roommate, would you? I mean, he seems nice enough, and he's a much better person than Patrick."

Ryne thought about it. He wondered why Tom had picked him. 'Probably to manipulate me into breaking up with Cortnie,' Ryne thought darkly. He hated being in a room with Patrick. Patrick made the room smell like rotten garlic and he never took a shower. But, he was only at the school a week, and Tom would be his roommate all the time. It was either Tom Riddle, (young Voldemort who would grow up to murder so many people, and he would be with him all the time,) or Patrick who stunk up his room, even though he would only be there once a month. Ryne knew his answer at once.

"When is Tom moving in?" he asked. He hated stench. When it came to being with Voldemort or a stinky, dirty, irksome slob, it wasn't that hard to choose. 'Besides,' Ryne tried to reassure himself, 'He's not even Voldemort yet.'

Also, while the two conversations were going on, Levi Busch, the person in question, was sitting up in his room, talking to his really good friend, Brad. Brad Shay was an extremely obese boy who had graduated the year before. Levi and Brad both rode the Lafayette bus, and a lot of people noticed their extremely friendly gestures toward each other. "I miss you Badly," Levi said, in a very disturbing, loving voice. They had adopted a rather irksome habit of using made up nicknames when they were in each other's company. Levi called Brad, Badly, and Brad called Levi Leafy.

"I miss you too, Leafy," Brad said in his dumb voice.

"I wish you were here with me," Levi said, beginning to cry.

"Don't cry," Brad soothed. "I'll come and visit you sometime."

Tom came into the room and saw Levi on his bed, tears rolling down his cheeks. Tom began to smirk. He knew something was going on, and he was extremely curious to see what it was.

"When can you come, Badly?" Levi asked, still crying.

Pause. "But, I want you to come now," Levi protested.

Pause. "Ok," Levi said, wiping his eyes. "Ya know, Badly. I still have that medallion you gave me. It's around my neck. I never take it off. I still love it, but not as much as I love you."

Tom couldn't help but gag. "Who are you talking to?" Tom asked him, still trying to shake Levi's voice out of his thoughts.

"That's none of your business," Levi sniffed.

"Fine," Tom said, not keen on a fight. He went over to his bed and began to pack his things.

"What are you doing?" Levi asked from the other side of the room.

"That's none of your business," Tom retorted, then grinned.

Levi made that same snorty growly noise in his throat that Tom had heard once before. "Are you moving out?" Levi asked.

"Yes I am, thank God," Tom said.

"Yea," Levi shouted, unnecessarily loud. "Badly, guess what? My horrible, mean, poopfaced roommate is leaving."

Tom finished packing, and began to drag his things out of the room.

The next morning was one of the best he had ever had in his life. He knew he wouldn't ever forget it as long as he lived. He was sitting on the ledge, waiting for his dorm, when Sammy came over and sat down beside him. "Hey Sammy," he said cheerfully, leaning back on his elbows.

"Hey," she said. He knew there was something on her mind the moment she spoke.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling concerned. He was still not used to his new emotions and was surprised when he felt it.

"Nothing's wrong," Sammy said hesitantly. She seemed to be debating with herself. Tom began to feel nervous.

"Did I do anything?" he asked.

"No," she said quickly. "You didn't do anything at all."

"Then what is it?" he asked.

Sammy sat there silently, still seeming to debate with herself. "You promise you won't get mad at me?" she asked, her face becoming red.

"I really can't promise that," Tom said honestly.

"Yeah I know," she said, still blushing. She hesitated for a few more seconds. Tom began to get impatient.

"C'mon Sammy, just tell me," he said, a note of impatience entering his voice.

"Ok. Do...do," she was blushing furiously now. Tom began to grin. This was acceptionally fun to watch.

"C'mon Sammy. Spit it out."

"Do you want to go to homecoming with me?" she asked in a rush. Then, she hid her face in her hands. "Of course you don't. You said you weren't interested in Alex, so why would you be interested in me?"

Tom felt a swarm of emotions take over. He was shocked that she would even consider asking him, he was nervous to accept, figuring that something would go wrong, and he was excited. But then his Tom Riddle caution kicked in. He thought that she was only asking him, and he would accept only to be let down somehow. He knew nothing good would come out of this. But, something, probably his heart, told him to accept her invitation. She had probably been rehearsing this for days, and she would be extremely hurt if he turned her offer down. He wanted nothing more than to hug her, but he wanted to draw away from her. He wanted to accept her invitation and have a great time at the dance, but he wanted to turn her down, knowing that something would happen if he accepted. His mind had a short but furious battle, and finally his positive emotions were the victors.

"Ok," he said, before he could change his mind. The relief was evident in her eyes. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him in a grateful hug. He tensed, and she pulled away, looking surprised. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm just not used to that."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." They sat in happy silence, just enjoying each other's presence. Then the silence was broken and it was time for Tom to go into breakfast.

That night, Tom sat with Sammy and Rylie. They were all making plans for the homecoming dance. Rylie seemed extremely happy when Tom had told her that Sammy had asked him to the dance. She said this would be a really good experience for him. Alex had been looking all over for Tom since the beginning of rec. She finally heard his voice and made toward it, keeping her face composed.

"Tom?" she asked, tapping him on the arm.

He ignored her. "Tom?" she tried again.

He still stayed resolutely silent. "Tom?" she said, practically yelling in his ear.

"What," he said irritably, turning to her.

"Do-do you think I could talk to you?" she asked him.

"No," he said flatly, turning away from her. She seemed to notice his disinterest, so she tried even harder.

"Please Tom?" she asked.

"No!" he exclaimed, getting irritated.

"C'mon. It'll only take two minutes."

"Fine, whatever," Tom said, scooting his chair back with unnecessary force.

Alex began to wind her way out of the Student Center, bumping into all kinds of things and people as she went. For some reason, Alex seemed to have a thing against carrying her cane.

"Need help?" Tom said, sounding amused.

"Yeah," Alex said. Tom took her shoulder and guided her the rest of the way out.

When they were sitting down in the vending machine room, a tiny room off of the Student Center containing a couple of snack machines, Alex began: "I know this will probably come as a shock to you," she said, "but I'm telling you that all of this is true."

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked, growing impatient with the conversation already.

"Just-just listen to this," Alex said, pulling her micro-cassette player out of her pocket. "I caught all of this on tape, and I just want to say that I'm extremely sorry."

She pressed the play button and Tom heard Sammy's unmistakable, cheerful voice coming out of it.

"I hate Tom Blackston."

Rylie answered her, sounding disgusted. "Yeah me too." Tom took in a sharp breath.

"I've hated him since the day we met," Sammy said, also seeming disgusted.

"Yeah, but at least you've known him less than I have," Rylie said.

"Yeah I guess I'm lucky," Sammy agreed. "I don't even know why I try to be nice to him." Tom could hear the revulsion in both of their voices. He hated it, hated it with a passion.

"Me neither," Rylie said. "We've been arch-enemies since the day we met." Did Rylie really mean this? She had saved him after all. Why would she go and say such a horrible thing like that? His hands began to tremble.

There was a silence on the recorder, and Tom began to hope that that was all. But, then Rylie spoke again. "Did you know he called me on my cell phone?" she asked, sounding appalled.

"Are you serious?" Sammy said, sharing her disgust.

"Yeah I am. Imagine my shock and revulsion when I heard his voice on the other end."

They began to laugh. This hurt Tom the most. Not only were they talking about him, but they were laughing at him, laughing at his stupidity, knowing that he had fallen right into their trap. Alex stopped the recorder.

Tom sat there in total shock. How could they do this to him? Sammy seemed so nice to him, and even Rylie was beginning to warm up to him. Anger began to make its appearance through the numbing shock he felt; anger and hurt. "Thanks-thanks for telling me this, Alex," he said quietly.

"I'm so sorry Tom," she said softly.

"You don't have to be. They didn't--didn't have a right to be saying those things."

"I know," Alex soothed.

"And, Sammy wanted to take me to homecoming," Tom said, more to himself than to Alex.

"Did she really?" Alex asked. "She asked you to homecoming and then said this crap behind your back? You don't deserve a dirty dog like her?"

"Do you think I could be left alone?" Tom asked.

"Sure Tom. But, ya know, I'm always available to talk."

"Ok," Tom said absent-mindedly. The words of the conversation still echoed vividly in his head, slightly muffled by the static of the recorder. "I don't even know why I try to be nice to him."

"Imagine my shock and revulsion when I heard his voice on the other end."

Tom didn't know how long he sat on that stool in that vending machine room. He just sat there, replaying the conversation in his head. Sammy had asked him to go to homecoming, and he had accepted. It had been the best morning of his life, and now it was ruined. All ruined. He punched his fist on the table, and then jumped up, knocking the chair over in his haste. He began to walk the halls. He circled the boys' quad and then went all the way to the girls' quad. He circled that, then went back the other way, up to the health center, back down, and around the boys' quad again. He continued his walk of the school for what seemed like hours, his anger and hurt rising with every lap he took.

The day had been horrible to get through. He totally ignored Sammy and Rylie, and he made a little kid cry at lunch. He didn't care. This whole school could go to hell for all he was concerned. "Hey Tom," Sammy tried. This was the third try she had made.

"Why are you trying to be nice to me?" Tom asked curtly.

"What?" Sammy asked. Tom turned and walked away. He looked back and saw the hurt expression on Sammy's face. He smirked. She was getting a little dose of what he was feeling.

When he got home that night, he just walked straight past Joanne without saying anything, which wasn't entirely unusual, and walked upstairs, slamming the door behind him. The bus ride hadn't been too bad. At least Bryce was really tired and didn't want to touch Tom's elbows. If he had, Tom probably would have punched him in the face.

Tom lay on his bed, thinking of the conversation that had haunted him since the previous night. "We've been arch-enemies since the day we've met," Rylie had said.

And, they had laughed at him. The laughter was mocking and cruel. They were mocking his stupidity. Tom wasn't stupid. He punched his pillow in frustration, wishing he could disappear into it. Disappear? Disappear. Apparition!

Tom was up in a flash. He had forgotten all about apparating. He wanted to bang his head against the wall. Of course, he could apparate back to England, couldn't he? Excitement began to rush back into him. He could get out of this hell whole.

He stood there, trying to remember exactly how to do it. He remembered the ministry apparition instructor telling him something about Three D's.

'Desperation, depression, then desolation,' Tom thought bitterly. He let out a humorless laugh.

No matter how hard he tried, the memory of apparating just wouldn't make an appearance in his head. He began to get frustrated. What the bloody hell were the three D's?

Then, the revelation hit him, so full and complete that he was momentarily immobilized. He couldn't apparate. For some reason, he couldn't apparate. He was stuck, stuck in this place of let-downs and disappointments. No one loved him here, no one cared for him. He had almost hoped, almost thought for three glorious weeks that someone had cared for him, but it was all a lie. It was just a trap that they had set for him. The laughter began to ring in his head again; the mocking, ridiculing laughter. "No, stop," he moaned.

He ran to his bed and jumped onto it, burying his face in his pillows. He felt the lump rising, even as he tried to press it down. The laughter seemed to build, to mock him. "Let it come," it seemed to tell him. Tom bit his bottom lip to keep the tears from coming out. He wouldn't let emotions take over. That was a sign of weakness.

"Imagine my shock and revulsion when I heard his voice on the other end." "I don't even know why I try to be nice to him." Laughter, the mocking laughter.

Then, the tears began to fall. He couldn't keep them at bay any longer. He cried almost as though his family really did die in a fire. The revelations were still hitting him: no one would ever love him, no one would ever care for him. The sobs racked his body, and he didn't try to fight them. Anger, hurt, grief, and many other emotions came out onto the pillow that he was burying his face into. But, one emotion came out clearer than all: neglect. No one had or ever would give him any attention. All he wanted was for someone to love him, but no one had. An over-powering loneliness began to creep in as he sobbed. His whole body shook with emotion. He couldn't believe that he had been fooled by Sammy's extremely cheerful, nice moods. But she had seemed so lovable, so kind. But, he could still hear the mocking laughter. Tom Riddle had never let his emotions out like this, but tonight was an acception. Revelation after revelation hit him, sending emotion after emotion through him.

Tom Riddle had never, ever, ever cried himself to sleep. That was until tonight. The last thought that crossed Tom Riddle's mind before he slipped off into an uneasy sleep was 'I'm all alone in this world.'


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

Tom was still in an exceptionally bad mood as he boarded the bus to go back to school Sunday afternoon. After cursing under his breath when one of the little autistic boys looked at him strangely, Tom slammed himself into his usual seat at the back of the bus, and was prepared to spend the entire three and a half hours to school in huffy silence. However, this plan came to nothing when the driver stopped to pick up Bryce Weiler half an hour later.

As Bryce sidled to the back of the bus, Tom prepared himself for the usual reaching and pleading to touch Tom's elbows. This had become a pretty regular bus ride ritual, and Tom was definitely not in the mood for it today.

This time however, Bryce did something that Tom was not prepared for at all and which did not soften his temper. He seated himself right next to Tom, in the same seat, and grabbed hold of his elbow without even asking permission.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tom said irritably, and not too quietly either.

"Hey!" yelled the driver. "We have little kids on this bus. Watch the language."

"Oo, you got busted," muttered Adrian Grice, snickering stupidly.

"I just thought I'd keep you company," said Bryce amiably. "You've seemed really sad lately, so I thought a nice talk might cheer you up. And I just couldn't resist those perfect elbows," he added in that far-away, dreamy voice that Tom hated so much.

"Well, thanks," Tom spat, not meaning it at all. "But I don't want company. Go away, Bryce."

"Well, okay," Bryce said, not seeming bothered at all by Tom's rudeness. "But before I do, do you want to see all the amazing coins I got over the weekend? They're really neat." Bryce flipped his fingers over his pocket, making the change jingle in a way that irritated Tom even more.

"No!" he said, very loudly. "Now get away from me! Go sit somewhere else!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Bryce said hurriedly, with a pleading please-don't-be-mad-at-me note in his voice. "But can I PLEASE touch your perfect elbows?"

"Damn it, Bryce, no!" Tom shouted.

"Language," Adrian said obnoxiously.

"Shut up," Tom snapped, clenching his fists, the blood throbbing in his temples.

"I shall touch your elbow!" Bryce shrieked, and he dove towards Tom, making a very strange sound in his throat, kind of like a little lion. The weird noise made Tom draw back, knocking his elbow against the window. However, the THUD from the elbow making contact with the glass had alerted Bryce to the elbow's location, and his moist, child's hand closed on it before Tom could move it. Before Tom even knew what he had done, he had drawn his fist back, and had punched Bryce hard in the nose, making it bleed.

The driver had seen all this in his rear view mirror. He abruptly pulled over to the side of the road, and, amid Leslie's continuous prattle about Korn and Adrian's now hearty guffaws, stalked to the back of the bus and came face-to-face with Tom, glaring.

"What do you think you are doing?" the driver growled, pulling Tom to his feet and steering him towards the front of the bus. Tom noted with distaste that the driver had rather stale breath.

"You will sit in the front of the bus for the rest of the trip," he snarled, shoving Tom into a seat before returning to Bryce with some tissues for his bloody nose. So Tom had to sit right behind the driver, not even able to sleep due to the constant screaming of the autistic kid sitting directly across from him.

About three hours later, with the horrible bus ride behind him, Tom was wandering aimlessly around the school, thinking sulkily of all that had happened. He was hoping against hope that he would not run into Rylie, Alex, or especially Sammy. He did not want to have to think about Sammy, but he could not help it. As he entered e building and proceeded in the direction of the Student Center, Tom Riddle, for the first time in his life, wished he was ignorant. He wished he had never heard that recording, and he and Sammy could be sitting in the Student Center right now, talking and laughing as they used to. Tom could have the Homecoming dance to look forward to, which would take place a month from this weekend. Tom thought that he could deal with living a lie, as long as he could have Sammy back as a friend. But he was not going to approach Sammy, because, for whatever reason, Sammy hated him, had hated him from the instant they had met. But it did not entirely surprise him. After all, who had ever really cared about Tom Riddle the orphan?

Tom was roused from these painful emotions by a very unfamiliar voice saying, "Gosh, Rylie, this place is kind of creepy. It feels almost haunted."

Just then, Rylie came walking by, accompanied by a girl Tom had never seen before. She was extremely tall, rather thick, and appeared to be about seventeen.

"Hi," the girl said, catching sight of Tom.

"Who the bloody hell is this?" Tom snapped at Rylie, coming to a halt. This girl didn't belong here.

"This is my good friend Ashley," Rylie said. "And you don't have to be so freakin' snippy."

"But what are you doing here?" Tom questioned, talking directly to Ashley now. "You don't go to this school."

"No, I don't," she said, sounding just as snippy as Tom. "But Rylie can have friends that don't go to this school, can't she?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Tom said, not really caring, for a plan was working its way into his mind, a plan that might make Rylie pay for contributing to the "I hate Tom Blackston," conversation. "What I want to know is how you two met. I didn't think blind people talk to regular people."

"Rylie is regular," Ashley snapped. Rylie felt a rush of gratitude towards her best friend for sticking up for her. "And for your information, we met because my dad and her mom are boyfriend and girlfriend, and they introduced us. I live close to this school, and so since I was at Rylie's house this weekend, I came with her to see her school when her mom brought her and Ryne back before she took me home. Want me to tell you what we do on the weekends too?"

"I don't think I want to know," Tom said nastily. "But isn't she a bit young for you to be hanging out with?"

"Hello," Ashley said in a voice that increased Tom's dislike for her by about fifty percent, the way she talked to him like he was extremely dim. "I'm younger than her by two years."

Tom was so stunned by this pronouncement that he fleetingly forgot his irritation. This girl, who was taller than Rylie by two or three inches and a lot heavier-looking, could not be twelve years of age.

"Well, I'm leaving," Tom put in, walking away.

"I don't like him, but he is so good-looking," Ashley said as she and Rylie began walking the other direction. Tom grimaced. But as he continued his walk, Tom's brain continued to work on his evil plan. However, he would have to find out more about Ashley and the friendship she shared with Rylie before he put his ideas into motion.

Three days later, Tom's mood had worsened dramatically. For one thing, h dorm seemed to harbor just as many annoying people as a dorm had. Mr. Bryles, the main house-parent, reminded him a lot of Mr. Ball, but he also had to put up with the continuous presence of Mr. Odum, who was sometimes in a dorm but resided mostly in h. Ryne was not a bad roommate. Aside from the fact that he kept asking Tom why he was so mad at Rylie (which Tom did not answer to), he pretty much stayed out of Tom's way, going about his own business. In fact, Ryne was hardly ever in the dorm, spending most of his time, Tom was sure, cooped up in i dorm with Cortnie, and only returning to his own dorm when instructed to.

As it was in a dorm, Tom found himself disgusted with most of the kids that lived here. For one thing, h dorm seemed to be the home of more mentally handicapped students than a dorm was. Brace-legged Josh Taylor resided here, along with another twenty-or-so-year-old boy with a very slow, deep voice, who was named Tony Zimmerman. Caddy-corner from Ryne and Tom's room was the room of one of the "able" autistic kids. This meant that the student in question could perform all daily living tasks well enough that he or she could be upstairs with their own age-group, away from the house-parents, and only required a small amount of assistance. This student's name was Sean Benke, and Tom was extremely thankful, upon hearing his continuous mumbling to himself and very annoying alarm at 5:00 in the morning each day, that he did not pick him as a roommate. Beyond this, the boy called Ryan Strong, an extremely fat and rude teenager that constantly indulged in pizza each and every night, loved to come waddling down to Sean's room every evening to poke fun at him and get him agitated and riled-up. Tom scoffed at this behavior. He made fun of people on a pretty regular basis himself, but he did it in a much more subtle way than Ryan's very belligerent actions.

One thing that Tom learned quickly about h dorm was that it was much harder to get a shower to himself in this dorm because Ryne, a boy called David Howard, and another boy named Cori Wills were on the track team, and they all used the showers after dinner as well. After Tuesday afternoon's extremely gruelling practice, Tom stepped into the shower to find, to his displeasure, that Cori, who was extremely annoying, was in there with him.

"What's up?" Cori said, spit flying from his mouth as he uttered. Tom also noticed that he elongated the first syllable of his sentences in a very irritating fashion.

"Nothing," Tom snapped. "I don't really feel like talking, if you don't mind. And I'd appreciate it if, when you do talk to me, you turn away. I don't particularly want spit sprayed all over me, thanks."

"Okay," Cori said rather stupidly, once again displaying his annoying elongation of the first syllable.

Tom also learned with much dissatisfaction that Josh White occupied the room directly across from his, along with another rather dirty-looking boy named Chris Shenefield. Every time Tom had to walk past their room, his nostrils would wrinkle at the smell of BO and stinky feet wafting through the door.

On Wednesday morning, Tom was roused from his sleep--the sleep where no thoughts of Sammy or Rylie plagued him--by the sound of the morning house-parent, Mr. Michaels, yelling at the top of his voice. Tom had learned that Mr. Michaels, though generally quite good-natured and easy to get along with, was not one you wanted to make mad.

"So why did you get up in the middle of the night to get a drink, Josh, if you knew this would happen?" the house-parent bellowed.

Tom heard a hearty snicker to his right, and, upon sitting up and looking around groggily, he spotted Ryne sitting up in bed, grinning from ear to ear, apparently enjoying whatever was going on immensely.

"What's going on?" Tom croaked, irritated by this interruption of his sleep. He knew that there would be no more sleep for him, and he would have to brood, once more, on his dark thoughts.

"Mr. Michaels is yelling at Josh White," Ryne whispered. "Josh wet the bed again." Then he broke into a peal of laughter, burying his face in his pillow to muffle the sound. Tom grimaced. So, not only was Josh White stinky and unintelligent, he also wet the bed. Tom made one of his mental notes in his head, promising himself that he would always wash his hands after touching anything that came in contact with that kid.

"I didn't mean to do it," Josh said, a pleading note in his voice.

"Oh, Josh," Mr. Michaels, began, a note of disgust in his voice.

"It's Joshua," the bed-wetting idiot correcting him. Tom was utterly appalled to hear the evident ennoyment of the situation in Josh's voice.

"I don't care if it's Josh, Joshua, or if you want to be called White!" Mr. Michaels roared, slamming his fist against the wall. "You're on restriction, Josh! You know you have this problem, and you still got up in the night to get a drink! Are you stupid?"

'Yes,' was Tom's thought, but apparently Josh felt rather differently, because he responded with a very simple "No."

"Well, next time think before you act, if you can," Mr. Michaels snarled. "Now, I want you to strip this bed right now, take a shower, get dressed, and then I want you to go downstairs and put all that bedding and your pee-soaked pajamas in the washing machine. Got it?"

"Yeah," Josh said, sounding as though such steps to clean himself up were beyond him. "But can't I do it later? I really want to go back to—"

"No!" Mr. Michaels interrupted, sounding revolted. "You've lyed in your own urine half the night. You will wash that stuff, dry it, and have it all put away before you go to school this morning, or it's a week's worth of restrictions with no visitors. That means no Jerry, and no Ugio."

That seemed to rouse Josh out whatever stage he was in, for the argument seemed to be over. But as Tom stepped into the hall later to brush his teeth, he caught a powerful whif of urine and the same stale BO stench as always emanating from the hated room.

That evening, Tom was ambling around the halls again. That seemed to be his usual nightly activity once more, since he no longer had Sammy to hang out with. Whenever he would see Rylie, Sammy, or Alex coming, he would hurriedly dart up the nearest flight of stairs, hoping that they hadn't heard him.

As he walked around the school this evening, he began to feel anger once more. This time, however, it was not directed towards Rylie, or even Sammy. This anger and hurt was aimed right at the person who had given him this information, who had alerted him to the fact that his best friend was a liar. His rage was now directed straight at Alex Hurley the Drama Queen. The more Tom had thought about it, the more he came to the realization that Alex's intentions were probably not as pure as she had made them out to be. Sure, she had stopped him from living a lie, but she had performed this apparently friendly gesture for her own gain, he was almost sure of it. The other thing that made his blood boil even more was the fact that she had done this just so that she could have all of his attention. She had said herself, "I'm always here if you need someone to talk to." Well, he wasn't going to talk to Alex Hurley the friendship wrecker.

As he came towards the gym, he saw the dramatic little snot herself. She was humming quite cheerfully, and seemed in really high spirits. Though he hated doing it, Tom felt compelled to talk to her just for a minute, to ask what was making her so happy. Was she looking for him, ready to give him more bad news?

"Hi, Alex," Tom said in a flat, expressionless voice that was indicated to mean, "No flirting, please."

"Oh, hey Tom," she replied cheerily, the little preppy note in her voice very obvious today.

"What the hell are you so cheerful about?" he snarled.

"Wow, someone's in a bad mood, today," she sniffed, and then simpered, "But I understand. You're still upset about Rylie and Sammy. Yeah, me too. They're such trash. But still, you really should try to get over them. I'm always sad, but I also always get over it, like today."

"Yeah, I noticed," Tom said, rather snidly.

"Did you know that there's going to be a talent show during the Indiana track meat?" Alex asked, a very smug note in her voice now.

"No, I didn't," replied Tom, really paying attention now. He knew that both Rylie and Alex loved to sing, sang well, loved to compete, and hated losing. "Are you going to be in it?"

"Yeah, duh," she prepped. "I sing the best in this whole school. Rylie thinks she's good, but even Mr. Todd says that the only people that think she can sing good is her family."

"When is it again?" Tom questioned.

"After the Indiana track meet is over, that Saturday night," Alex explained, dropping the annoying preppiness slightly. "I was just up in the gym, and the rec people told me."

"Well, see you later," Tom said, losing interest in Alex once he had gotten the information he needed. He walked away, a plot formulating in the back of his mind. Not only would this make Rylie extremely mad, but it would make Alex Hurley pay for wrecking his friendship with Sammy. Sammy. As much pain as she had made him feel by betraying him, Tom couldn't find it in his heart to hurt Sammy. He also knew he had to leave Rylie alone, for if she was no longer around, the angel would be in grave danger. For the first time since Harry Potter had taunted him back in that department store, and all those spells had hit him, causing him to put fourteen years of his life into that angel that now resided with a heartless blind girl, Tom Riddle was plotting murder.


	19. Chapter 19

Note: You might be getting rather tired of Tom's constant depressing state. Tom Riddle's happiness is always ruined, isn't it? Well, this chapter is another one of those chapters, so bare with me, but the end of Chapter 20 will be a major turning point in the story. So can you wait that long? Well, here is the chapter.

Chapter 19:

The next month of Tom Riddle's life was extremely horrible. He would make it through the days by not speaking to anyone unless he was spoken to, and then he would go up to his room during the evenings and go over his dark plans. He would put the "Alex," plan into action at the Indiana track meet talent show. Even though this plan dominated his mind, the other plan involving Ashley and the friendship she shared with Rylie, still lay dormant in his mind, waiting to be thought upon. Tom couldn't physically hurt Rylie, she had the angel, but he could hurt her mentally, make her feel some of the pain that he was feeling. He still couldn't bring himself to hurt Sammy though. He really missed talking to her, hanging out with her in the Student Center, laughing together, but he wasn't going to be the one to apologize to her; he didn't even do anything wrong. She was the one who betrayed him, not the other way around.

During one of these abominable days, Tom was meandering the halls (he really didn't have a desire to be in his room at that particular moment,) and Levi Busch happened to be passing. "Tom, I really miss you being my roommate," Levi said, as soon as he caught sight of Tom.

"That's wonderful for you," Tom said absent-mindedly. "Because I definitely don't miss you."

"Ya know," Levi said, following Tom as he walked. "I really liked getting in your bed. It made me feel better when I had bad dreams. You-you made me feel like my mommy was with me again. Now, I'm-I'm all alone. Can't you come back and be my roomie? If you do, I'll share my cookies with you, and—"

"All right," Tom shouted, trying not to gag. "That's quite enough. I'm extremely grossed out, and that dodgy talk just makes me sick."

Tom began to run down the hall, desperate to get away from Levi. "Hey!" Levi yelled, who apparently thought different of Tom's leaving. "I wasn't done. You never gave me an answer." He began to chase Tom down the hall. This reminded Tom a lot of the first day of school and how Bryce had chased him, trying to touch Tom's elbow.

Tom lay in bed that night, doing his usual contemplation of the horrible day. He had gotten in a fight with Mrs. Squire that very morning. It was a lot more difficult to get his math homework done, now that he was trying with all his might to avoid Rylie. He mostly relied on Amber, which got on his last nerves. She would usually disagree with him on every problem, and she would also get distracted very easily. He wished that he could work with Rylie (they always got perfect scores when they worked together,) but the thought of approaching her after not talking to her for so long was almost non-existent. Amber was busy the night before, which happened a lot, so Tom wasn't able to get his math done. Mrs. Squire was not happy.

"Do you have homework for me, Tom?" she asked him, holding her hand out expectantly.

"No miss," he said, looking intently at the desk in front of him.

"And why not?" she asked. "This is about the fifth time you haven't gotten your homework done. And, you used to get perfect scores, and now your grade has gone down dramatically."

"I'm not meaning it Miss, honestly I'm not. It's just that I can't find anyone to read me the questions. You know I can't read them, and Amber was busy. I couldn't find Rylie."

"I was in my dorm the whole night," Rylie said quietly. Tom glared at her.

"So you couldn't find her huh? Did you even try?" Mrs. Squire asked in her calm but disappointed manner.

"No, I guess not Miss," he said defeatedly. "I'm really sorry."

"That's what you said the last three or four time," she explained patiently. "Tom, I just don't think you get it."

"Don't get what?" he asked irritably.

"That this homework is really important, and sorry won't cut it all the time," she said sternly. "It's twenty-five percent of your grade, and you're just slacking it off like it's nothing. Well, I'm tired of your constant apologies and sneaky remarks to get out of situations."

Tom had known that Mrs. Squire would be a very hard person to manipulate from the moment he entered the classroom on that first day which seemed like an eternity ago. He was right of course, but that didn't make the situation any better, and that didn't lessen his irritation. If anything, it had increased it, making his temper rise. "You know what? I don't care," he yelled, his temper flaring. He had had enough; he was getting way too stressed out. "You don't even have a clue as to how horrible my life is. And, I can't exactly read the bloody rubbish, so how the hell do you think I'm going to get it done? It's also really hard to find people, and maybe I don't want to drag my butt all around the school, looking for someone to read me those stupid problems. I hate math. It's a stupid—" he slammed his book shut, "subject." He pushed himself up from the table. Then, he turned and strode out of the classroom without looking back.

Silence rained in Mrs. Squire's classroom. No one could even believe what had happened. "I think I need to go and find him," Mrs. Squire said calmly. "I don't know why he has such an attitude all of a sudden, but I've had it. He used to be rather nice, well not at first, but after a while he was. But for a while now, he's been horrible to everyone." She stood and walked out of the room. At the door, she turned back and said, "Do your math while I'm gone."

After embarrassing himself by storming out of Mrs. Squire's room, Tom had gone to the library. He just walked in uninvited, sat down, and put his head on his arms. He was so tired, he could barely even stand it. He was sick of ISBVI, sick of the people in it, sick of the stupid, useless homework, sick of braille, and sick of h dorm. There wasn't even anything to live for. He had put his soul into the angel, hoping that one of his followers would be the one to catch the angel, but it was a girl who turned his life into a complete wreck. At that moment, he felt like the sacrifice was made for nothing. 'Maybe death would be preferable,' he thought. But even as he thought this, he immediately knew that this wouldn't be anywhere near as bad as death. But all the same, this life was horrible. 'Maybe I actually did die and go to Hell,' he thought dismally.

Mrs. Squire managed to track him down just as the bell was ringing for third period. He told her that he was sorry for blowing up, and then he even managed, with much difficulty, that he really did his homework the night before by having one of the house parents read it. When he was done though, his homework was ruined when Ryan Strong spilled some of his pop on it. Tom really didn't want to make the house parent go through that all over again, and it was beyond repair. Tom vowed to never try and manipulate Mrs. Squire again; it was extremely hard and painful.

"Did Josh really kiss Cortnie?" Ryne asked Tom after they had been lying there for quite some time.

Tom sighed. He really didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment. "Yes," he said shortly.

"Are you sure you just weren't seeing it right? Maybe it looked like kissing, but it really wasn't." Ryne sounded hopeful, and TOM really wanted to dash his hopes, just to make Ryne feel bad.

"I know what I saw," Tom said casually. "I may be kind of blind, but I can see some, and I know I saw them kissing."

Ryne didn't say anything else on the subject, and they laid in silence for a while. "Does Rylie talk about me?" Tom blurted before he had even thought about what he was saying.

Ryne paused here, seeming to consider Tom for a moment before saying rather bluntly, "Well, she has said a few things, but not too much. Mostly she's just upset about your crappy attitude, and she thinks you're treating everyone horribly and she doesn't even know why. And," he added, putting dramatic effect on this next part, "she thinks you're treating her worse than ever, and she HATES it."

A strange suspicion rose fleetingly in Tom's mind. Why would Rylie be upset that he wasn't speaking to her? She was the one who had talked rubbish about him, after all. Then his thoughts turned to Alex Hurley, and he clenched his fists in fury. Was it maybe possible that Alex might have been exaggerating to make herself look better?

"'Night," Ryne mumbled from the other side of the room, apparently hinting around that he was finished talking. Tom didn't answer, too absorbed in his suspicions and his bitter reflections to think of much else.

Tom's only means of revenge during this dark four weeks was during track practice. After the first horrible week of endless stretching and conditioning, the team had finally started working on races and field events for the upcoming meet in Missouri. Tom was very relieved that he was able to go. His math grade had dropped by a considerable margin, making him extremely worried that he would have to say, as Ms. Altmann so kindly put it, "good-bye to going on the meets." He was currently holding a d in Spanish do to his lack of participation in class and neglect of his homework duties. His math grade had dropped to a c minus for the same reasons, earning him a talking-to by Coach Ford, who told him that if he didn't bring his grade up, he might have to kick him off the team. The coach also expressed his disappointment in Tom, telling him that he would really hate to see him leave the team, and saying that he had hardly ever coached anyone with Tom's skill.

"You've got potential," Coach Ford told him the Monday before the meet. "I don't want to lose you. You've beaten Ryan Harvey three times."

This was perfectly true. Tom had improved dramatically, surpassing the arrogant Ryan Harvey in his athletic performance, something that Tom heard Ryan complaining about heartily after all three practices where this had transpired. He also thought he saw Ryan give him very dirty looks when they passed in the hallway. This caused a glow of smugness to make its presence known in Tom's heart; if he couldn't have Sammy as a friend, he could still beat Ryan Harvey, the coach's favorite, in Harvey's very favorite sport.

The charter bus ride to St. Louis, Missouri, was very uneventful in Tom's opinion. The five-hour trip to the Missouri School for the Blind certainly beat the alternative: riding the three and a half hours home on the school bus with Bryce Weiler only to see his phony family and brood over his thoughts. He was pleased that he didn't have to go home until the following weekend, when there would be no track meet. His happiness of the prospect was dampened considerably, however, by the fact that Rylie, Sammy, and Alex would be accompanying him on the trip. Fortunately, he had heard that Rylie's mom would be coming to the meet, and so Rylie would be leaving directly after the meet was over the next day, and would not return to the school until Sunday night.

As the bus pulled up to a rather grimy-looking, small building that looked rather like a prison, Tom turned to a boy called Michael White and said in tones of disgust, "Is that it? Is that the school?"

"Yeah," Michael replied, looking glum. "Not like our school is it?"

"You're bloody right it's not," Tom snarled. This was already looking like a long weekend.

Tom became very agitated and impatient during the chaotic unpacking of the bus, and his mood did not improve upon seeing the inside of the school, which looked much darker and gloomier than the halls of ISBVI. Farther more, they had to wait for what seemed like an hour before someone came along to unlock the dorm that they were staying in. To Tom's dismay, he ended up having to share one of the three-bed rooms with Ryan Harvey and Peter Johnson, an athletic African American boy who chummed with Ryan and hated Tom because Ryan hated Tom. When Tom went to use the restroom, he found, to his revulsion, small holes eaten into the wooden stall doors that looked like small animal bites from ages ago. To cap it all, the dorm had no rec room, no TV, and the dinner the school served was made up of warmed up hot pockets and baked Lays potato chips. At least the Indiana School for the Blind attempted to cook.

Tom barely saw the three girls over the next day. He glimpsed Alex once, and to his fury, she was sitting right smack dab in the middle of a group of boys from Missouri, who seemed to take to Alex as much as she was apparently taken with them.

"You know," Alex said in her annoying preppy voice. "Everyone likes my singing at my school. You guys want me to sing a song?"

"Yeah, yeah," the boys chorused, and one of them said, "You're cool, Alex."

"Thanks, Alon," Alex sniffed dramatically.

"Sing the National Anthem," another boy told her.

"All right, Trevon," she said. Clearing her throat with much exaggeration, she began an extremely jazzed-up version of "The Star-Spangled Banner," to much applause and cheers from the crowd of flirtatious boys. Tom had heard enough. Snorting disgustedly, he continued on his way, heading for the class c 800 meter run.

"Go get 'em, Tommy," Coach Ford said bracingly as Tom walked past, slapping him on the back. Ryan Harvey stalked past, scowling. The coach hardly ever paid him any mind anymore, to his fury.

The track teams for the blind schools were divided into three sections: the a's, who were totally blind, the b's, who could see a little bit, and the c's, who possessed decent or good vision. Tom had been classified as a b, but he could barely see well enough to run on the regular track, and, because of how fast he was, Coach Ford had insisted he run the 800 with the c's.

As the gun sounded for the race, Tom took off hard. He had adopted his method of running hard for the first hundred to get ahead, then slowing up to pace himself. Everyone else would pretty much pass him up, but this did not worry him, for he knew that they would tire and he would pass everyone else eventually. This was the case today. Ryan Harvey, wearing a hopeful expression, passed up Tom at the end of the first lap, running hard. "You won't win this time, British snot," Ryan snarled, his breath sounding short.

Tom merely laughed, continuing what he was doing.

As he suspected, as he neared the last two hundred meters of the race and began to speed up, he looked to his side and saw the other runners beginning to lag behind. He sped up faster, not paying attention properly and nearly swerving into Ryan's lane. Cursing his horrible vision, he veered back into his own lane, putting on a huge burst of speed as the finish line came into view. Ryan's familiar yell of rage erupted from behind him, and Tom, upon looking around, saw the other boy a few feet behind him. He could hear his team cheering him on, urging him forward, yelling things like, "Go, Tom, go! Get 'em, Tom!" As he sprinted the last few meters and crossed the finish line, he turned back again to see Ryan, red-faced and furious-looking, sprint over the line seconds behind Tom.

Once Tom had gotten himself a drink of water and was starting to cool down slightly, Coach Ford came strolling over and started fawning over him as usual, while Ryan huffed in irritation nearby. Ryan was not used to being neglected during a sports event like this, and everyone could tell that it was angering him greatly. Everyone on the track team knew that Ryan Harvey's head had been punctured that day, causing it to deflate like a balloon that was devoid of air.

"Good job, Tom," he heard a familiar cheerful voice say excitedly. Sammy was behind him, and, turning around, he saw her beaming, seeming very pleased. This quickly evaporated his enjoyment of the race.

Ryne and Rylie's mom did not show up until the meet was nearly over. To Tom's surprise, Rylie's friend Ashley was with her as well. So not only did Ashley go home with Rylie quite frequently, but she also wanted to come to her track meet out of state. Tom smirked, knowing that his plan, when put into action, would hurt Rylie much more than he had originally anticipated.

The next two weeks passed by in a haze. Tom avoided contact with most people, as usual, but he was at least managing to get his homework done again. His house parent, Mr. Broyles, read him his math during study hour, and Amber, when she wasn't making up some excuse to not help so that she could visit A. J., would help him with his other work. He only saw Sammy and Rylie during class, diligently avoiding them during the evenings and being quite successful. He only ran into a bit of trouble over the weekend following the Missouri track meet.

As Tom exited the bus Friday evening and entered the house, he was unpleasantly surprised to find both Joanne and her husband, Dan, waiting for him in the living room.

"Hi, Tom," Joanne tried.

"Mmm," Tom grunted.

"You see?" Joanne said, turning to her husband. Dan nodded.

"Tom," he said seriously. "Take your things upstairs and then come back down here. We want to talk to you."

"What for?" Tom questioned, becoming aggravating.

"Because of that attitude of yours," Joanne said, seeming to abandon her usual kindly manner and becoming quite stern. "You have lived here for over a month now and you have barely said ten words to us. You lock yourself up in your room from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon, and you haven't even tried to get to know Peter and Patty at all."

"Fine," Tom grumbled. "I'll be down in a minute."

'Why do these people care so much?' he thought darkly to himself as he trudged upstairs to drop his bookbag and luggage on his bed. 'They're not my family. I've never had a family.'

Once he was back in the living room, Joanne pointed to the couch and said in the same stern voice, "You're not just going to stand there so that when we're done, you can just run back upstairs. You will sit down on the couch, and we will talk like a—"

"Don't you DARE say we'll talk like a family!" Tom shouted. "I'm not your son, damn you!"

"Watch your mouth this instant, young man!" Dan snapped. "We do not tolerate swearing in this house!"

"You know what?" Tom yelled, losing his temper faster than blinking. "You think you know me, and you don't! I HATE you, and I don't EVER want to get to know you! I hate the way you act, trying to get all cozy with me, trying to be my mum and dad! Well, I've got news for both of you! My mum and dad are both DEAD! You will NEVER BE MY FAMILY!"

Tom was breathing hard now, a dull red flush visible in his cheeks and neck. Joanne and Dan sat on the other couch, apparently too stunned to speak.

Finally, Tom regained control of himself, and, unbidden, the emotions of guilt that he hadn't felt for weeks began to slide lazily into him, making him feel somewhat sorry for what he had just said.

"Tom," Joanne said in a trembling voice that indicated tears to come. "We're trying to help you. We know what you've been through, and we're trying to help you get back on your feet. The death of both of your parents was a terrible ordeal, and I just want you to know that we're only trying to help. We want you to feel comfortable here."

"That's right," Dan chimed in. "And Patty and Peter really want to get to know you. Patty's sixteen, and Peter's thirteen, so they are both around your age, and you could get along with them if you'd just try."

There was a little silence, before Tom, looking at neither of them but contemplating his tennis shoes, said, "I'm really sorry. I'll try harder, I promise."

"That's all right," Joanne said, and Dan nodded. "That's all we ask. Now you can go back upstairs if you want."

He didn't, however. To his foster parents' apparent pleasure, Tom stayed downstairs with them, watched some TV, and told them about his week at school, leaving out Sammy, Rylie, Alex, or any other miserable subject. However, his mind was a long way away as he formulated and shaped his ideas into a workable plan that could be set into motion. The Indiana track meet was approaching; it was nearly time for his plan of revenge that he had been working on so carefully in his mind to become a reality.

"They'll never forget Lord Voldemort," he whispered to himself very late on the Thursday night before the meet. "Oh no, they most certainly won't."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20:

When the Indiana meet rolled around, Tom was pleased to find out that he wouldn't have to move dorms. He wasn't looking forward to moving all his junk to another dorm, but he didn't have to. Ryne was also excited. "Haha," Ryne said. "Zach and Nicholas have to move all their crap to our dorm."

"Hmm," Tom said absent-mindedly, even though he was satisfied that the immature little kids had to move too. He was deep in his own thoughts, formulating his plans. 'This is it,' Tom thought. 'This is the muggle fun I haven't had in a long time.'

"Do you need help Alex?" Tom asked, as they sat around the table. It was Saturday morning, and they were all eating breakfast (eggs, muffins, greasy bacon and orange juice.)

"With what?" Alex asked snottily.

"Well," Tom said, trying to keep his anger and smugness under control. "Do you want some yogurt or cereal or milk or anything?"

"Why?" Alex asked. It was apparent that Alex wasn't as stupid as Tom had first thought.

"I don't know. I guess, I haven't really properly thanked you for what you did in that vending machine room," Tom said calmly.

'Y'll be getting a proper thank you,' Tom thought.

"That's no problem," Alex said a little too cheerfully to be entirely plausible. "I guess I can have some frosted flakes."

"Ok," Tom said excitedly, getting up. A smirk began to make its appearance on his face.

Tom went over to the box that held the cereals, and selected the frosted flakes. He was glad that there were frosted flakes; this made the plan go a little smoother. He opened the box and poured the contents into a bowl. Then, he pulled a carton of milk off one of the shelves and opened that, pouring it into the bowl with the frosted flakes. He pulled a bottle of a thick, glutenous liquid out of his pocket; his own concoction made from bleach, shampoo, perfume, and tide detergent. He opened the bottle and poured it in with everything else.

"Here," Tom said, putting the bowl down in front of Alex.

"Thanks Tom," she said, putting her spoon in it and stirring it absent-mindedly. Tom sat down and began to eat his own breakfast.

"This tastes really strange," Alex said, chewing her frosted flakes cautiously.

"Really?" Tom asked casually.

"Yeah," Alex said, taking another bite. "I can't even eat it." She began to gag and splutter.

"Alex?" Tom said, plastering concern into his voice. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she said, still gagging. "Th...is...gross."

"Maybe you should complain to the school," he said. "What did they do to that cereal? Does it taste like it's in the cereal or the milk?"

"The milk," Alex said, her eyes watering. "Did you look to see when it expired?"

"No, but I can," Tom said, pretending to pick up a milk carton. "Oh my god. It expired in August."

Alex renewed her gagging, burying her face dramatically in a napkin.

"At least you only took two bites," Tom tried to comfort her. He then began to laugh; he just couldn't hold it in anymore. It had worked. He would be getting his revenge very soon. Probably in about three days, Alex Hurley the friendship wrecker would be dead.

"C'mon Alex," Coach Ford yelled. It was midday, and Alex was running her six hundred.

"I can't," Alex yelled. Her stomach hurt terribly, and she was getting worried.

"Yes you can, and don't talk. You only have one lap to go. And...it's your last event."

"No...I...can't," Alex said, pains shooting through her. She finally trotted over the finish line, earning her a last place.

"What happened Al?" Mrs. Altmann said, a little irritably.

"I really don't feel good," Alex said, her voice trembling.

"Don't feel good? What hurts?"

"My-my stomach," Alex complained.

"Oh, that's probably because you weren't breathing right," Mrs. Altmann said reassuringly. Alex wasn't reassured.

When Alex went back up to the school, she laid in bed, not wanting to do anything. "Want some pizza?" Rylie asked her.

"No," Alex said quietly.

"What's wrong?" Rylie asked.

"I feel horrible," Alex said. "I just want to go home. Can you just leave me alone? I don't feel like talking to anyone."

"I-I guess," Rylie said, concerned.

Alex's condition worsened dramatically over the next three days. She didn't go to school, merely lying in the Health Center, her face pale and bland. Her fever continued to rise from 99 to 104. If she ate anything, she would just throw it back up later. "Do you want to try to eat anything today?" Nurse Jerry asked.

Alex didn't answer for a moment. Nurse Jerry was just about to try again when Alex said, "Sammy, I think you should dance with him."

"What Alex?" the nurse said in her rather snippy voice.

"Can I have some potato salad? Oh wait, I don't like that. Hehehehe." She let out a chilling laugh that shocked Nurse Jerry deeply. Nurse Anne came in, holding the thermometer. Her fever had risen to an alarming 106 degrees.

While Alex lay in her bed on Saturday night (the night after the track meet) Rylie had gone to the talent show, and had won. She felt really bad that Alex didn't come, but she also felt smug that she had won. No Alex had interfered with her victory.

"So, how was the talent show?" Alex asked her as she lay in her hospital bed. She had been rushed to the Indianapolis hospital when Nurse Jerry found out that she had a 106 temperature.

"It went okay," Rylie said cautiously. She didn't want to talk about this touchy subject while Alex was ill.

"Did you win?" Alex asked. "Of course you did. You're really good."

Rylie wished Alex was this nice when she wasn't ill. "Thanks Alex, but you're good too."

"Yeah I am, but I'm glad you won."

"So umm, do you know why you got sick?" Rylie questioned.

"I'm not really sure," Alex said. She put her fingers to her temples and thought. What had happened to make her sick? The answer seemed to slink into her head: the spoiled milk.

"I ate some frosted flakes that were really gross. They had some milk in them that had expired in August."

"Eww, that's so gross," Rylie said. It had been a miracle that Alex had survived. The poison, or whatever it was, was so close to killing her. If she had waited any longer for treatment, it would have been too late.

The doctor came into the room at that moment. "It's time to see why you got sick, Miss Hurley," he said. "We're just going to take some blood to see what kind of toxin it was."

Rylie left shortly after they had finished drawing the blood. She was curious to know what had made Alex sick, and was going to stay with her, but she was ushered out of the room by a very snippy nurse.

"But, can you call me and tell me what made her like this?" Rylie asked.

"If we have time," the nurse snapped. "Now go."

Rylie did in fact get a call from the hospital, telling her the shocking news of Alex's condition. According to the tests, the substances in the body weren't expired milk. They included bleach, and some other products that the human body shouldn't swallow. Curiosity began to creep its way into Rylie's mind. Who could have done this? She would, along with Sammy, get to the bottom of this. And the person responsible would pay. Alex may get on Rylie's nerves sometimes, but she was still her friend. If the tests really came out right, the person who did this was attempting murder. Rylie's mind jumped straight to Tom Riddle before she could even stop it. Then she laughed; he wouldn't dare do something like that with her holding his life.

Tom was furious; his plan hadn't worked after all. He figured that since she had stirred the poison amongst the cereal it had mixed thoroughly, giving it a weakened affect. Also, she had only taken one or two bites. This was NOT supposed to happen. She was supposed to die. He punched his pillow in frustration; everything seemed to go wrong.

Alex came back from the hospital during the following week. She had to take many different kinds of medication, but other than that, she was well enough. "It's so good to have you back," Ms. Lewis said. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, much better," Alex said cheerfully. "Thanks for asking."

Alex went upstairs to greet Sammy after her horrible stay in the hospital. "Hey Sammy."

"Alexandra Hurley! You're back," Sammy shrieked, hugging her friend.

"Yeah. It was horrible. I almost died. I thought I'd NEVER get better."

"That's awful," Sammy said. "Do you know what happened?"

Alex lowered her voice. "I think someone tried to murder me, but I don't know who."

Sammy started to laugh. "Yeah right," she said, still laughing.

"No, I'm totally serious. They found bleach and shampoo in my blood. That couldn't have gotten there by accident."

The argument involving Tom Blackston had apparently been forgotten during the poison episode. Sammy fiercely swore to Alex that she would help her get to the bottom of the mystery. Rylie heartily agreed.

"No one should get away with this," Sammy said angrily. They sat in the student center, and Tom saw Sammy, Rylie and Alex all talking with their heads together. He became furious. This was supposed to be his revenge on Alex, but it had only made her friendship with Rylie and Sammy stronger. Alex had not only divided Sammy and Tom, she had taken her away from him too. And Rylie wasn't making things any better, sitting with Alex and Sammy, probably not even thinking of Tom and how lonely he might be feeling. The Ashley plan nudged at his mind and he latched onto it immediately. Tom was going to make Rylie lose a friend, just like he had. He didn't know why he wanted to hurt her so much, but he wanted someone to take his frustration and fury out on, and she seemed the perfect target.

Tom got up and went over to their table. He glared at Alex for a minute; she seemed to have taken his place. He tapped Rylie on the shoulder. "Yes," Rylie said.

"Can I borrow your cell phone?" Tom asked casually.

"Why?" Rylie asked suspiciously.

"I have to call my Mother," Tom said, bitterly spitting out the last word.

"Umm, ok," Rylie said hesitantly, pulling it out and handing it to him. Tom took it and went back over to his couch. Tom began to skim through the phone, looking for the incoming calls with a 317 area code on them. He found three numbers, and jotted them down on a piece of paper. Then, he went back over and handed Rylie her phone back.

"Thanks," he said.

"Uh-huh," she said distractedly, turning back to her secret conversation with Alex and Sammy. This made Tom's blood boil.

The plan was very rough getting started. Tom hadn't thought of Ryne being his roommate. Of course, he couldn't put the plan into affect with Ryne so close. Ryne was Rylie's brother, and would obviously go and tell her exactly what was said. Tom tried asking Ryne to please leave so he could have a private conversation with his family, but that didn't work because Ryne was too busy talking to Cortnie and told him to go and talk somewhere else. So then, Tom went and hunted down an empty room. This didn't work either; there weren't any empty rooms in h dorm. Finally, Tom, feeling exceptionally embarrassed, went down and sat in the laundry room.

He dialed the first number and asked for Ashley. "May I ask who's calling?" a very snippy woman's voice said on the other end.

"Tom, one of Ashley's friends," Tom said.

"Well, there is no Ashley here," the woman yelled.

"Well, I just got the wrong number. You don't have to be so snippy about it," Tom shot back.

The phone went dead and Tom was momentarily shocked. Regaining himself, he called the second number. This time, he struck gold.

"Hello," a somewhat familiar voice said.

"Is this Ashley?" Tom asked cautiously.

"Yes," Ashley said. "Who is this?" She had a very blunt way of talking with really put Tom's nerves to the test.

"Tom, one of Rylie's friends," Tom said. "I, well, I have to talk to you about her."

"About Rylie? What did she do?"

"Well, if you don't want to know. I mean, ignorance is bliss."

"Tell me already," Ashley said irritably which made Tom angry.

"Ok," he said hesitantly. "She...well umm, she talks about you. When you came in on Sunday that one time, you know, when she introduced you to me, she started talking about you when you left. I brought you up, saying that you seemed nice, and she said 'well, she is somewhat nice, but I really don't like her. I'm only nice to her because my mum is dating her dad, and I don't want that relationship ruined.' Then, she said something else after that, I don't really remember what...but it was something about well, about how annoying and immature you are."

Ashley sat there stunned. "She wouldn't say things like that," she said fiercely.

"I'm telling you she did," Tom persisted. "But if you don't believe me, fine. But she really did."

"If she talked about me, what's my last name?" Ashley interrogated.

"Romac," Tom said promptly.

"Did she talk about my boyfriend?" Ashley asked.

"Not really. She said you had one and wouldn't shut up about him, but she didn't say anything else."

"I was just telling her the story of how we got together," Ashley said, sounding deeply upset.

"I'm sorry Ashley," Tom said soothingly, reminding himself forcibly of Alex.

Ashley sat in silence for a while, apparently thinking. Tom waited patiently. "Fine," Ashley said angrily. "If she likes to sit there and talk about me behind my back, then...then we're not friends anymore. Thanks for telling me this Tom."

They got off the phone, and Tom began to grin. The "Ashley," plan had been successfully executed. It may have been a childish way to get someone back, but it would have to do.

Rylie hung up the phone and forced back a sob. Something was up with Ashley. Rylie had tried contacting her for three days, and finally she had succeeded. But Ashley didn't seem keen on even having a small conversation. Rylie asked her a few questions, and Ashley gave short, curt responses. After about two agonizing minutes of this, Ashley said she had to go and hung up. Rylie wasn't sure what had happened, but she knew Ashley wouldn't change, just like that. Rylie had a hunch that it had to do with Ashley moving to her mom's. Ashley had moved in with her mom, not even bothering to contact Rylie and give her the new number. Rylie had found out this information from Ryne, and was pretty disheartened about it. She had called Mom to get the number, and Mom had given it to her. The only question that Ashley had asked Rylie during the two minute conversation was "How did you get my number?"

After getting off the phone, Rylie walked down to the library, not really even caring about where she was going. She had lost one of her best friends for who knew what reason. Just a few days ago Ashley had called Rylie, begging to come over. Rylie had said she would see, but it was pretty unlikely; she was going to her dad's. But, that couldn't be it. Ashley wouldn't be mad over one visit refusal. Rylie slumped into a chair at one of the tables in the library and put her head in her hands. She thought of the power-point presentation Ashley had made. In it, she had mentioned Rylie being her best friend. So what had made her change so drastically. Rylie sat there for a long time, just thinking about everything. No year had been quite as eventful as this one. For one thing, Alex had been poisoned, for another, Ashley wasn't her friend anymore, and the biggest was saving Tom Riddle's life. Everything seemed too surreal. Tom Riddle? Who would have thought. And why would Ashley change just like that? Who would murder Alex? Rylie pulled herself to her feet, putting her hand on the table for support. It bumped a notebook that was lying there. Rylie, being the curious blind kid that she was, picked the book up. To her rather dull excitement, she realized that it was in braille. She flipped to the first page and read:

_I hate this school and everyone in it. Well, I thought I hated it until I met Sammy. Sammy seems to be the only one who cares for me at this horrific place._

Rylie knew instantly who's journal this was. There was only one person who thought of Sammy like that: Tom Riddle. She eagerly turned the page and prepared to read it. Did she really want to get into his private business? That was kind of wrong. And why would he just leave it lying around? That seemed very irresponsible. But she read the entry anyway.

_I drank some pop today and I did not like it very much. Sammy is an extremely fun person to talk To._

Rylie skipped a few pages, not really interested in reading the recollections of Sammy that were sure to be written there.

_Sammy hates Me._

This three word entry shocked Rylie greatly, driving Ashley temporarily out of her mind. She went to the next one and read:

_I am so embarrassed. I can not believe that I let myself cry. Lord Voldemort does not cry. But all the same, that conversation that I heard on the tape recorder between Rylie and Sammy was very upsetting. I never thought that they would betray me, especially Sammy._

Rylie was shocked yet again. She never remembered saying anything bad about Tom behind his back. But, her suspicion was driven out of her mind by the next entry:

_I've made a decision: I'm going to seek revenge on Alex Hurley. She's the one who ruined my friendship with Sammy, so she'll pay. I'm going to murder her at the Indiana track meet talent show._

So she had found the murderer. She turned the page and read:

_I forgot to tell you that I met Rylie's friend on Sunday. When I met her, I decided to make Rylie feel bad for contributing to the I hate Tom Blackston conversation. I will make her lose friendship with this Ashley girl. I'll have to see how much Ashley really means to her first though._

Rylie skipped to the very last page, the fury building inside her.

_Both my plans have been executed. One of them didn't work though. I wanted to murder her, but she was saved. But, I do think my plan with Ashley succeeded. I don't think Ashley will want to talk to Rylie for a while._

The book trembled in her hand as she closed it. She couldn't believe he would even do something like this. She had to talk to Ashley, persuade her that Tom was lying. She walked back to her dorm, Tom's journal in hand, and called Ashley.

"Hello?" Ashley's voice said on the other end. Rylie was relieved; she would have thought that Ashley wouldn't answer the phone. "Hi Ashley," she said.

"Oh, hi," Ashley said, sounding deeply disappointed.

"Listen, what Tom said, that wasn't true," Rylie blurted, desperate to make Ashley understand.

"Tom? Tom who?" Ashley said suspiciously.

"Tom Blackston," Rylie said desperately. "You know, the one who lies about me? I never, ever, ever talked to Tom about you. He was lying about it." Rylie wished that she hadn't opened her big mouth.

"I never said that Tom was talking about you, but you did. You just admitted it."

"What? Oh my god," Rylie said, catching on to her idiocy.

"I really don't want anything to do with you anymore," Ashley yelled. "I have OTHER friends now, and they won't EVER betray me." Before Rylie could even react, Ashley had hung up. Rylie heard the subtle click of the disconnection, and just as it clicked, something seemed to click into her brain. She was absolutely furious. Tom Riddle had wrecked her friendship, he had totally ruined it.

She stood up, her whole body shaking with surpressed rage. She grabbed the journal and the angel, and composing herself, went out of the dorm to hunt down the murdering friendship ruiner.

Rylie ran down the stairs, two at a time, not even bothering to tell Ms. Hause where she was going. "Hey," Ms. Hause called after her. She didn't stop.

She walked, no ran around the school, looking high and low for him. She went up to h dorm and found out that he wasn't there. She tried the Student Center, forgetting that it was closed in her irritation, the library, forgetting that that too was closed, and the verandas. She walked past his hiding place at least five times without even knowing it. She stopped in front of d dorm and let out a frustrated scream, stomping her foot.

d dorm was a dorm that wasn't used. The school only used it as a horticulture lab and the art classroom. Rylie opened the door leading to the dorm and trudged over to the stairs. She didn't want to see anyone, and she needed time to think. She had to find the little murderer.

"What the bloody hell?" Tom yelled as Rylie, not even thinking, plopped down on the step, right into his lap.

Rylie hurriedly got up and turned to face him, glaring. "Hello Voldemort," she said with such venom in her voice that he recoiled.

"What's going on?" he asked her casually.

"Don't talk to me like you don't know," she hissed fiercely, barely moving her lips. "You know, you forgot this in the library." She began to smirk as she threw the journal at him. His eyes grew wide in horror.

"You didn't read it did-did you?" he asked.

"Of course I read it, you god damn murderer," she spat. "I've tried and tried again to make your life at least livable, and this is the gratitude I get?"

Her voice had risen considerably. "You made my life hell," Tom said angrily.

"And now my life's hell," Rylie yelled, clenching her hands into fists. "You wrecked my friendship with someone who meant so much to me. Does that make you happy? Does it?"

"Yeah, actually it does," he said, grinning.

"You'll never change," Rylie screamed, her eyes looking like two pin-pricks of fire. "I sacrificed my god damn blood for you, and this is what I get for that? A murder and a friendship wreck? What even made you do this?"

"You said you hated me," Tom yelled, also getting angry.

"When, when Tom. When did I ever say that?" she yelled.

"On that god damn tape recorder," he said.

"You should have talked to me about it. But of course you wouldn't do something so simple as that, would you? No of course you wouldn't. You'll never change. I-I don't even think you should live."

Tom sat there in stunned silence, but Rylie broke it again. "You just don't care. I could have killed you on the spot. I could have broken that angel so easily, and not have had to worry about you. But no, I didn't do that because I have some caring in me. I sacrificed myself for a murderer? I guess I did." Tears of frustration began to pour down her cheeks. "I can't believe you would sink that low. I can't believe that you would murder someone when someone else gave their life for you. That's just sick. Sick...and...wrong!!"

Tom didn't even know what to say. "I can change," he said meekly.

"Ha!" Rylie yelled. "You changing? I don't think so. If you were to change, you would have done it a long time ago. No Tom, I don't think you will change, and I don't even think you care that you almost killed Alex. You're taking your life for granted, but not anymore. I've had it Tom Marvolo Riddle. I'm done. I don't want to worry about you anymore. I kept you alive just so you could try and take the life out of another? This isn't going to happen again, because your life is over. It's through!"

She pulled the angel out of her pocket, and before Tom could even stop her, before she even seemed to know what she was doing, she tossed the angel to the ground.


End file.
